Jeux D'Enfants Terribles
by miknnik
Summary: Despite their initial misgivings, Rick and A.J. take on a dubious case.
1. Chapter 1

Rick Simon turned the doorknob and opened the door quietly. He stuck his head in to survey the kitchen of his brother's home. A.J. was standing by the counter drinking a tall glass of orange juice. Judging by his attire, sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks, he seemed to have returned from his morning run not too long ago. He must have heard Rick at the door but said nothing.

"Morning, A.J."

"Morning."

In contrast to the older brother's forced cheerfulness, his sibling's tone was ice-cold, which told Rick loud and clear that A.J. had not yet absolved him from last night's antics.

"Hey, you're not still mad at me, are ya?" asked Rick just in case.

No response from A.J. but a chilling silence.

"Oh, come on! Don't give me that. Stop pouting and be reasonable. I said I was sorry!"

Something Rick had said made A.J.'s head swivel. "Be reasonable? BE REASONABLE?" A.J.'s voice became screechy giving Rick an ample warning that he was still hopping mad. "Says a man who is yet to find the definition of 'reasonable' in his dictionary!"

"I yam what I yam," grinned Rick impishly. "But you're the good son in our family. You're always level-headed and…and very forgiving." He placed more than a slight emphasis on the last word.

"Even a saintly soul, that I'm not, would snap after three decades of torment, continuous torment heaped upon by his sadistically maniacal brother like you!"

Rick bowed his head trying his best to look contrite.

"Sabotaging my date night is nothing new to you, but taking off with my date is a new low even for you!" A.J. drove his point home by jabbing his finger at Rick.

"Hey, I was just trying to help you out."

A.J. froze and stared at his brother in disbelief. Rick didn't like the feverish gleam in his brother's eyes—it made him look like a rabid dog, or a psychotic killer.

"All I wanted was comfort Rebecca 'cause she looked kinda scared when you rushed out the door screaming my name at the top of your lungs…" Seeing A.J. breathing hard like a marathon runner at the finish line, Rick hastily continued. "You should thank me, A.J.—she's all wrong for you."

After a beat or two, A.J. managed to croak, "All wrong for me…"

Rick nodded vigorously.

"That from a man whose most meaningful relationship lasted all of five days."

"Why settle for one woman when there are so many to choose from? Look, you know what they say about the attraction between the opposites. You and Rebecca are too alike—serious, well-dressed, well-educated, able to slip a phrase like _bon vin blanc_ into a conversation…"

"So, you're trying to say, I should see a woman like you, and you should date a woman like me?"

Rick crinkled his nose and pondered what his brother had said for a moment. A.J. snorted when he saw Rick cringe and shudder.

"Okay, okay. There's a flaw in the theory, I admit," Rick conceded. "But I'm not here to argue. I'm here to apologize."

"Far be it from me to stop you," uttered A.J. sarcastically.

"I really mean it, A.J. Here, take a look." Rick took out something out of the breast pocket of his shirt and offered it to his brother.

A.J. regarded Rick suspiciously and hesitated a moment before accepting what seemed to be a couple of tickets. When he saw what they were, his head snapped up.

"The Chargers game next week! How did you manage to get a couple of good end zone seats like these? The game's sold out!"

"I have my sources," said Rick succinctly. He had no intention of telling his brother that Carlos had given him the tickets in return for letting him use A.J.'s home and Camaro for a week during his brother's vacation in San Francisco—without A.J.'s consent, needless to say.

A.J. clutched the tickets against his chest like a young child holding his teddy bear or blankie and sat down on the armchair.

"This is very considerate of you. I'm…I'm really touched, Rick. I think you're finally growing up."

"Ah! Don't get too mushy on me, A.J., but you're welcome," said Rick with a half smile.

"Hey, Rick? I bought some doughnuts on the way home. Would you like one?" asked A.J. offhandedly as he kept staring straight ahead into space.

"Mmm, doughnuts!" Rick licked his chops and opened a cardboard box on the counter. There were two each of maple bars and jelly-filled doughnuts. At the moment, it didn't occur to him neither he nor A.J. liked maple bars. Rick picked up one of the jelly-filled doughnuts and took a big bite with gusto, but just as soon as he tasted the filling, he spat it out in the kitchen sink with an "Ugh!" He grabbed a handful of paper napkins and gave his tongue a thorough scrub with them.

"A.J.!" Rick roared as soon as he got the use of his tongue back.

A.J. was sitting sideways in the chair watching Rick's every move with a mischievous grin on his face.

"I want those tickets back!"

"No way! They're for your stealing my date. That," A.J. pointed at the box of doughnuts, "…is for doctoring my _escalopes de poulet a la moutarde de Dijon au vin blanc_."

Rick had ruined A.J.'s chicken dish with mustard and white wine sauce by adding unappetizing, and quite possibly inedible, ingredients last night. To get back at his brother, A.J. had sucked out the jelly filling and replaced it with the mixture of ketchup, Tabasco, and chili pepper.

Rick got a coffee mug out of the drainer and poured the coffee from the coffee maker carafe. He took a big gulp only to spew it out in the sink yet again.

A.J. was now laughing uncontrollably, his head thrown back, body twitching with laughter.

Next minute or so, Rick busied himself with rinsing his mouth and gargling with the tap water to get the nasty aftertaste out.

"A.J.!" Rick yelled for the second time.

"And that," A.J. gasped between fits of laughter, "…was for replacing my fifty-dollar-a-bottle chardonnay with white grape juice."

Rick was becoming red in the face.

"You're getting the taste of your own medicine, Rick," said A.J. still chuckling. Actually, what Rick had tasted was a concoction of coffee, soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce and vinegar.

"Ever since we were kids, I have begged and pleaded to stop these pranks of yours, but you wouldn't listen. I'm afraid this is the last resort to get through to you. How does it feel to be on the receiving end of sophomoric stunts? Huh? And don't get me wrong, I'm not doing this for the sake of enjoyment."

Rick didn't buy the last remark. "You're gonna pay for this." He snarled.

"Oh, come on! You started it."

"No one gets the last laugh at my expense, especially a little twerp like you!"

"You can make idle threats all you want, but you can't scare me. We're not kids anymore, Rick. Your reign of terror ended long ago. Why don't you wake up and smell the coffee?" A.J. paused. "Oh, wait. You already have, haven't you?"

A.J. resumed chuckling and got up from the chair to get ready for work.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, A.J. You should be afraid—very, very afraid."

"Oh, yeah? Make me."

A predatory grin, that had been all too familiar to A.J. since they had been boys, started to spread across his brother's lips, and for an instant, an eight-year-old in him flinched, wishing he could retract what he'd said, but just as soon as it was brought on, the fear dissipated. He wanted to kick himself for falling for Rick's old trick.

"Is that a challenge?" Rick asked softly still grinning like a psycho. He could see his brother's bravado falter for a brief moment.

"Come on, Rick. This is so childish. I refuse to be roped into one of your puerile games!"

Rick's grin became wider. "Chicken!" He gleefully taunted his brother.

"You're wasting your breath. At least one of us has grown up. I'm not going to stoop to your level no matter what you say."

"Okay. So, I win."

"What?" A.J. was flabbergasted.

"I win by default."

A.J. shook his head as if to refuse to believe what he'd heard. "Rick, this is not a sporting event. I don't remember signing up for participation. You… Listen, I don't pretend that I am remotely capable of following your reasoning process, but please let me reiterate; I am _NOT_ playing your one-upmanship game. All right?"

Rick shrugged. "Fine. Don't do anything then."

"That's exactly what I'm going to do—nothing." A.J. was glad to be able to leave this matter behind.

"I'm not gonna let you off the hook that easy though," said Rick smiling sweetly.

A.J. frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know damn well what I mean—it means that you're gonna have to watch your back, as well as your front, left and right, for the next few days, and the best part is, I don't have to worry about watching _my_ back."

A.J. squeezed his eyes shut and sighed in sheer frustration.

"Remember the camping trip we went on when you were thirteen or fourteen? You thought it was a bear coming after you in that cave you wanted to 'explore.' Man, you almost wet your pants when I grabbed ya!" Rick reminisced happily. "And when you crawled into your sleeping bag and found a coupla snakes, you screamed like a little girl…" Rick continued to harass his kid brother just like old times.

His eyes downcast, head hung low, A.J. mumbled something.

"Come again?" asked Rick.

A.J. lifted his head to look his brother squarely in the eye and declared, "Let the best man win."

Rick's face lit up like a Christmas tree on steroid. "What? You're on?"

"Yes," answered A.J. tersely knowing full well that Rick now got him where he wanted him.

"All right! That's my little brother—a gracious loser, who's willing to take a lickin'."

"Don't be so sure. I can be just as wicked and devious as you if I set my mind to it. After all, you provided numerous examples, from plain bad to diabolical, for me to examine over the years."

"Do you know what your problem is, A.J.?" Rick snickered at his brother who seemed exasperated and miserable. "You're good at lots of things, like schoolwork, sports, cooking, but you lack one thing to be a great prankster—spontaneity."

"I have no desire or aspiration to be a prankster, great, mediocre or otherwise, but just so you know, I can be spontaneous, capricious and impulsive like you if I want to."

"Wrong! Being spontaneous, capricious or impulsive is not something you can teach yourself, or flip the switch on. You're either born with it, or without. I hate to tell you this, kid, but you ain't got it."

"You're wrong," said A.J. stubbornly.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"What are you two arguing at this hour of the morning?"

The Simon brothers instinctively clamped their mouths as soon as they heard their mother's voice. It was still early in the morning, and yet, Cecilia Simon, standing by the kitchen door, was chipper and dressed fashionably in a pastel pink ensemble.

"Hi, Mom." A.J. gave her a perfunctory greeting.

"Mom, what're you doing here all gussied up? It's not eight o'clock yet." Rick groaned.

"Aren't you glad that I got here when I did to break up your fight?"

"We're not fighting," grumbled Rick.

"Then why were you yelling at each other? What are you boys up to?"

"Nuthin'," muttered Rick poker-faced throwing in a slight shrug, a gesture reminiscent of his rebellious teenage years.

"It's nothing, Mom," said A.J. almost simultaneously in the sweet tone of an innocent mommy's angel.

Of course, Cecilia knew that her sons were up to something. _The lad doth protest too little, methinks_, thought she with a secretive smile. But she also knew that she wouldn't be able to get them to fess up unless they were ready and willing to do so. Until then, even A.J., the chattier of her two sons, would become monosyllabic and uncooperative on the subject matter not unlike a hostile witness on the witness stand during cross-examination.

"All right, then. I'm glad to hear that because I came here to ask you a few questions, not to be a referee in your fight."

"I told you, we're not…"

As Rick began to bellyache, A.J. quickly overrode him. "Ask away, Mom."

"Well," Cecilia clasped her hands in front of her chest. "What are you boys doing next Wednesday night?"

Unsure of where their mother's question would lead them, Rick and A.J. briefly exchanged a puzzled look.

"Um, nothing special, I guess," replied A.J.

"Good! What about you, Rick?"

"I dunno. I don't plan things weeks ahead."

"So, does that mean you can make yourself available next Wednesday night?" Cecilia asked with a hopeful look in those large pixie eyes of hers.

"Yeah, I guess so, but what exactly am I making myself available for?"

"Well, there's a charity function I'm attending…"

Rick cut her off. "Ah! Say no more. Take A.J. with you. He makes a better escort."

A.J. shot an angry look at his brother.

Cecilia appeared a little annoyed. "Rick, I don't have to ask one of my sons to accompany me to the function, but there are a couple of ladies from my bowling team who are in need of companion."

Rick was almost afraid to ask the question. "Who?"

"Sandra Bauer and Gretchen Hartmann."

"No! Not Randy Sandy and Retchin' Gretchen!"

"Rick!" Cecilia and A.J. were aghast to hear such a tasteless, insensitive remark although they had heard those unflattering nicknames whispered among some harpies who also frequented the same bowling alley. The problem child of the family had undoubtedly been in tune with the gossip.

"Don't you think me and A.J. are a little too young for them?"

"Sandra is only several years older than I am," remarked Cecilia tightly.

"But missus H must be old enough to be our grandmother!"

"Gretchen is barely into her seventies and looks at least a decade younger than her age."

"Mom, go ahead and tell the ladies that Rick and I are more than happy to be of their service." A.J. jumped in to be on the mother's side.

This time, Rick gave his brother a dirty look.

"We should treat our mother's good friends like ours, shouldn't we?" A.J. looked into Cecilia's eyes like a child eager to receive his mother's approval.

Before Rick could voice his opinion, Cecilia beat him to it. "Oh, wonderful! Thank you, honey. I can always count on you."

Cecilia gave her youngest an affectionate hug to seal the deal. Rick was half expecting to see A.J. stick his tongue out at him like he used to behind their mother's back whenever he'd succeeded to get him into trouble.

"Now, why don't you take a shower and get ready for work, sweetheart?" said Cecilia.

"Yes, ma'am." A.J. obediently replied playing the role of a perfect son to a tee.

"Well, I must be going—I'm on the function's committee and have a breakfast meeting to attend this morning." Mission accomplished, Cecilia was on her way out. "Don't forget to mark your calendar, honey." She cheerfully reminded Rick as she briskly walked out of the house.

When Rick spun around to give his brother a piece of his mind, A.J. stuck his tongue out at him and scrambled up the stairs to take a shower before he found out what payback Rick had in store for him.

"I'll see you at the office, Rick!"

Rick could hear his brother laughing all the way to the shower stall upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick and A.J. arrived at their office within a few minutes of each other, Rick in his beat up Dodge, A.J. in his snazzy Chevy. Both vehicles were all-American but distinctly different as their owners. When Rick and A.J. walked up the stairs to get to their office, Jennifer Schwarz from Terrible Twos, a daycare across the hallway, was wiping down the agency's door with a rag and a bucket of soapy water.

"Oh, great. What did her brats do this time?" Rick muttered.

A.J. elbowed his brother's side to silence him. "Hi, Jennifer. You don't have to do that. I'll ask the cleaning crew to take care of it."

She seemed uneasy and embarrassed when the brothers saw what was on their office door: two crudely drawn figures by a child's hand with markers. One figure had a cowboy hat, a mustache and was lying on the ground bleeding. The other one was standing by the man on the ground with a gun in his hand and had on a sheriff's badge and lots of yellow hair. The drawing elicited a smile from A.J. and scowl from Rick.

"I bet it's that Marcus kid who did this," said Rick fuming.

"How did you know?"

"Never mind him, Jennifer. My brother gets cranky whenever someone younger than he outsmarts him, which is often," said A.J. with a smirk. "Besides, I really like this artwork. Maybe we should keep it for a while. What do you think, Rick?"

Rick answered his brother's question with a menacing glare. He knew A.J. was enjoying this immensely.

"When we were kids, Rick always got to play a sheriff or a cowboy whereas I was forced to play either an outlaw or an Indian who had to be gunned down every single time. He'd beat me up if I refused to play along." A.J. told Jennifer unlocking the door. "Would you like to come in and sit down for a few minutes? I know getting a breather is a luxury at your workplace." He winked at her.

She took a furtive look in the direction of the daycare center and said breathlessly, "Actually, I'd like to speak to you in private if you're not terribly busy."

She sounded a little nervous.

"Um, sure, please come in," offered A.J. opening the door for her.

All three entered the office of Simon & Simon Investigations. A.J. closed the door behind him as Rick made a beeline for the coffee maker to brew a fresh pot of coffee. Jennifer stood in front of A.J.'s desk thinking over several things simultaneously: _Should I sit down by A.J.'s desk? How should I begin the conversation? Oh, God, I hope my hair looks all right._

A.J. offered her a guest chair and a smile to calm her nerves. "Please have a seat, Jennifer, and we'd like you to know that we're professionals and deal with delicate and confidential matters all the time, so there's nothing to worry about. You can tell us anything. Your secrets are safe with us. We're here to help you, not to judge you. Okay?"

Jennifer wasn't a wide-eyed, naive teenager and knew this was what Rick and A.J. told all their clients, but she had found some comfort in it, especially when the younger Simon, perched on his desk, placed his hand on her shoulder for moral support and encouragement.

As soon as he got the coffee maker going, Rick grabbed one of the guest chairs and sat down next to Jennifer. Disregarding A.J.'s warning glare, Rick put his feet up on his brother's desk, leaned back in the chair with the clasped hands cradling the back of his head, which made his ever-present cowboy hat dip to the eye level.

"Okay, Jen. The floor's yours. Is it love, money, a minor brush with the law…?"

A.J. was mortified. "Rick! Will you…"

"It's all right, A.J." Jennifer seemed more amused than embarrassed. "And it's not me who needs your help."

Puzzled, the brothers looked at each other.

"Can you elaborate on that?" Rick asked first, pushing his hat up to have a better view of Jennifer.

"And how did you get involved in someone else's affairs? Why do you have to consult us on their behalf?" asked A.J.

"Well, this is about my neighbor who moved into the same apartment building around the same time as I did—six or seven months ago, I think. She lives a couple of doors down from my unit, and we sometimes bump into each other and chitchat.

"Last week, she casually mentioned that her husband hadn't come home for a few nights, so I told her you are very good at tracking a missing person, and your rates are reasonable. But at that time, all she said was she'd think about it. Then she knocked on my door last night and asked me how to get in touch with you, but I wanted to speak with you first to see if you're interested."

"How come? We always welcome cut-and-dried work like a missing persons case." Rick asked.

"Because you told me more than once you hate divorce cases… I hope I didn't do anything out of line."

"Is it shaping up to be a divorce case, you think?" inquired A.J.

"I'm not sure, but Karyn, my neighbor, called her husband cheating bastard."

Rick sighed, disenchanted. He and his brother hated cheating spouse cases as much as divorce-related investigations. They all led to the same path: boring tail jobs, surveillances at seedy motels, hideously explicit pictures that never turned out glamorous and titillating like a centerfold. The only winners in those cases were greedy divorce lawyers. So, A.J.'s response took Rick by surprise.

"I see. Why don't you give us your neighbor's contact information? Rick and I will discuss this matter and give her a call to let her know one way or the other."

"Now, wait just a minute!"

Rick started to protest, but A.J. cut him off.

"Rick, Jennifer is being considerate and kind enough to bring us work at the same time. This is the least we can do for her so that she won't have to be in an awkward position if we decide to turn down this case."

"Thank you for doing this for me, A.J. If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know." Relieved, Jennifer smiled shyly at A.J.

"Don't mention it, but there is something you can do for me," replied A.J. with a grin.

"What's that?" She asked expectantly.

"I'd like to reserve the right to send Rick to the daycare's time-out corner if he and Marcus start going at each other again."

A.J. and Jennifer shared a good laugh on Rick's account as they often did until she realized that she had been away from her work too long.

"Oops! I've got to go back to work!"

She jumped out of the chair and headed for the door, but A.J. put his hand on her arm.

"Wait. We need your neighbor's name and phone number."

"Oh, right." Jennifer took out a piece of paper from her pant pocket and handed it to A.J.

He asked, "When's the best time to call her?"

"Anytime, I guess. She doesn't work," answered she. "Sorry, I really have to get back. Bye!" With that, she ran out of the office to go back to her little charges.

Upon Jennifer's hasty exit, A.J. turned around and encountered Rick's scowling face. Now his brother was in a foul mood, and he was on the defensive.

"Rick, I know what you're thinking," started A.J. to argue his case.

"Oh, no, you don't. If you did, you wouldn't wanna stay in the same room with me," said Rick through the clenched teeth.

"You heard me—I didn't say we'd take this case. All I ask of you is to keep your mind open and talk it over before we decide…"

"Drop it. There, I've spoken."

"As I said, we're going to _discuss_ it, like two adults."

"I don't want another messy divorce case."

"How can you be so sure that this is a divorce case? Because the wife called her husband cheating bastard? Sometimes people say things they don't really mean in the heat of the moment. I know I do." _Thanks to that special someone who is the bane of my existence_. "We don't even know if he's cheating on her."

"Maybe she has some evidence. Maybe she caught him literally pants down. Or, maybe he has cheated on her before, and now she decided it's time to leave him."

"That's a lot of maybes. We will never know for sure unless we talk to her."

"Then you call her."

"I wouldn't mind it, but under the circumstances, I think you should give her a call." A.J. said to Rick gently but firmly.

"Why should I?" challenged Rick.

"If this turns out to be a divorce or cheating spouse tail job, it doesn't matter who talks to her. But, if I called her and she made a compelling case, do you think you would take my word for it and accept my decision to take her case? I'm asking you to make that decision yourself."

Rick regretted he had let A.J. have one of those discussions—which were technically not discussions—in which he merely sulked and his brother did most of the talking. In the end, A.J. almost always got his way overwhelming Rick with the logic and verbosity, as was this time.

Rick scrunched up his face in frustration and yelled, "Fine! Have it your way!" He snatched the piece of paper that Jennifer had left with them from A.J.'s hand.

Rick stomped all the way to his desk like a spoiled brat being sent to his room and flopped down on the chair. He kept glowering at A.J. while dialing the telephone number. The phone started ringing on the other end, and someone picked it up after a couple of rings.

"Hello, this is Karyn."

Her voice was husky in a seductive way. Rick immediately found it appealing to his ears.

"Ah, morning, Mrs. Hojnacki. This is Rick Simon of Simon & Simon Investigations…"

"Oh, good! So, Jennifer told you about me. When can you start?"

"Um… We did talk to Jennifer, Mrs. Hojnacki, but…"

"Please. Call me Karyn." She was an aggressive woman who wouldn't let him finish his sentences. "That's K-A-R-Y-N. No one calls me Mrs. Hojnacki. I've been married to Ben, my current husband, for only ten months. By the way, may I call you Rick?"

She must be the kind of woman who would spill her life story without any reservation to any unlucky and unsuspecting stranger sitting next to her on a park bench, Rick imagined.

"Fine, mi… Karyn. As I was sayin', we talked to Jennifer, but we need more information from you before we make a decision."

"What kind of information?" Suddenly, she sounded anxious. "You're not going to help me?" She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"I didn't say that," said Rick backpedaling. As much as he wanted to drop her like a hot potato right then and there, he wasn't sure if he could deal with a crying woman even on the phone. Not at this hour of the morning before a cup of joe, he decided sighing quietly.

"So, what do you wanna know?" Karyn asked sniffling.

"Well, for starters, tell us your expectations. What are your goals? Do you want us to find your husband? Or, do you want to know if he's cheating on you? Are you looking for the grounds for divorce? Trying to reconcile? Undecided? None of the above?"

"I don't want a divorce," said Karyn still in a teary voice. "We've been married for ten months, but we've been together a lot longer. I'm not sure if he's cheating on me, but if he is, this may not be the first time."

"Oh?" Rick let Karyn know he was listening but kept it short to keep her going.

"We met and got married in Las Vegas, you know," said she as if it would explain everything.

"Do you want us to find out if he's cheating?"

"Not really. I don't know."

Rick felt like banging his head against the desktop. _Why is it so hard for some women to answer a simple question with ' yes' or 'no'?_

"Do you think he's cheating on you?" Rick changed the angle of his question.

"Probably not. He's a loner and sometimes goes off unannounced for a few days just to be alone. But he's never been gone this long before."

"Have you filed a missing person report with the police?"

"Yes, but I can tell they're not really looking for my Ben. I mean, he's a full-grown man and known to disappear for a few days from time to time. The officer who took all the information said, 'Your husband probably will come back in a couple of days,' or something to that effect."

That sounded like a typical response from the boys in blue, Rick thought. "So, you want us to look for your husband—is that it?"

"Uh-huh. He may be hard to get along with, but he _is_ my husband. I just want to know he's safe." After a brief pause, Karyn added, "He'd better come back before our Hawaiian vacation starts! The trip's all paid for!"

That got Rick chuckling.

"If he doesn't, maybe I'll take you to Hawaii with me. I've been looking forward to this trip so long."

"You should be careful what you wish for, Karyn." Rick continued chuckling.

"Rick, if you don't my saying, you sound very nice—well decidedly that, but…attractive."

Rick didn't know how to respond because, unlike his brother, he was rarely showered with compliments on his looks, sartorial taste, behavior, or anything else in-between from women. He just laughed feeling awkward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you or to be so forward." Karyn started to apologize, but Rick cut her short. "Don't be—it's just that I'm not used to hearing strangers say something nice about me."

"You're just being modest, aren't you? I like that in a man."

Rick detected a slight sexual overtone in Karyn's comment. She must be flirting, he was sure of it. After all, didn't she just quote that infamous line from _Body Heat_? He was grateful that she hadn't quoted the whole thing skipping the "you're not too bright, are you?" part.

Rick was also glad that she couldn't see his silly grin on his face. He copped a peek at A.J., and of course, he was all ears. The old habit of a tattletale little brother would never die, or fade away. A.J. had become much sneakier over the years as a matter of fact. At the moment, he was hunched over his desk pretending to be working on the ledger with fierce concentration, just the way he used to devour his favorite novels like _Treasure Island_, or _Journey To The West_.

"Don't get your hopes up too high—you might get disappointed when you see us in flesh." Rick started to enjoy these exchanges with a woman he'd never seen.

"Oh, I don't think so. I'd say you definitely sound tall, dark and ruggedly handsome." Any hint of subtlety had gone out the window, and Karyn was now getting aggressive and boldly hitting on Rick. He liked _that_ in a woman.

"Me and my brother together might be able to make up a whole man of your dream." This time, Rick's laugh sounded more natural. "I'm tall, dark and just rugged although my brother used to call me toadface whenever he got angry with me."

"So, your brother is…"

"Short, pale and cute, yes."

Rick felt a certain degree of satisfaction when he heard A.J. huff indignantly. So, he was paying attention to Rick's phone conversation with Karyn. _Serves him right for eavesdropping_.

Rick heard Karyn's throaty laugh on the other end of the line, and it sounded lusty to his ears.

"Now I'm truly intrigued. You and your brother sound like quite a pair. How soon can I see you? Can I make an appointment now?"

"Let me talk to my brother first. And I think it's better for us to see you at your home."

"Why is that?"

"We may want to take a look at pictures of your husband, or go through some other personal effects to look for a clue."

"That makes sense. Just give me a call when you're ready to stop by."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Rick. I'll be waiting to hear from you. Bye."

"Bye, Karyn."

By the time Rick put the phone down and looked up, A.J. had dropped the pretense and was openly staring at him.

Rick cleared his throat. "Uh, I gotta hand it to you, A.J., making this call was the right thing to do. Turns out it's only a missing persons case after all."

"Is it?" A.J. held his stare. "I wish I could be as certain as you are."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What I mean is, I have some misgivings about this case, especially about Mrs. Hojnacki."

"What? What do you know? You didn't talk to her; I did."

"But I could hear your end of the phone conversation. At first, you were ready to kiss this case goodbye. Then your attitude changed—softened like consoling a crying woman. But only a moment or two later, you started flirting with her, and it sounded like she'd initiated it. Don't you think it's rather odd? One minute she was teary and concerned about her husband, the next, she was openly hitting on you. For some reason, she makes me nervous."

"So? Some women are fickle. They're hardwired that way."

A.J. let out a cynical laugh. "Oh, that's a good one. You're just like the Duke in _Rigoletto_ singing _La donna é mobile_."

Rick had no idea what exactly his brother had meant by that, but his sarcasm was hard to miss.

"What's wrong with you, A.J.? First, you wanted to take this case, now, you're trying to convince me we shouldn't. Make up your cotton-pickin' mind!"

"I never said I wanted to take this case. All I said was we should keep our minds open. Besides, you did an about-face too—you didn't want any part of it before. You sure changed your tune quickly after talking to Mrs. Hojnacki."

"Well, Karyn is a…" Rick hemmed and hawed. "…a very persuasive lady." He concluded with a goofy grin.

"Karyn, huh?" A.J. shook his head. "I don't think I wanna know which part of you was persuaded."

"Let's just say a little voice is telling me we should pick up her case."

"Don't listen to it, Rick. It's your testosterone talking, not your brain."

"Hey, get off your high horse, A.J.! You're just as bad as me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I know that you know Jennifer has a serious case of crush on you."

"I…uh…" A.J. stammered and blushed. "What's that got to do with our business?"

"You don't wanna go out with her, but you keep stringing her along by flashing your pearly whites, or giving a little pat on her back whenever she makes goo-goo eyes at you like a love-sick teenage girl."

"I never…"

"Yes, you do! You always moan and groan when we're hired for a divorce or cheating spouse case, but you didn't bat an eye when Jennifer brought up Karyn's problem. And I never woulda considered taking the case if you hadn't badgered me into calling Karyn."

Rick savored the moment when his brother failed to come up with a snappy comeback.

"Rick…" A.J. sounded tired all of a sudden. "Being on good terms with someone and stringing her along are not exactly the same thing. But you're right—I don't want to be romantically involved with Jennifer although I like her as a person and neighbor in this building. The last thing I want to do is to hurt her feelings and have to face her everyday when we come to work. Besides, you'll never know how a spurned woman would react. Don't you remember what Shannon did after you broke up with her?"

Truth be told, Rick hadn't thought about Shannon Finnegan for months. He'd had a brief fling with her but broken it off rather abruptly. First, there had been angry calls at all hours. When he'd stopped taking her calls, she had trashed A.J.'s home because Rick had neglected to tell her he lived on his boat, The Hole In The Water, parked in the backyard. After that incident, he'd had to cope with two very cranky individuals for a week or two.

"Yeah, vaguely," admitted Rick reluctantly.

"But you made your point, Rick—I asked you to make a call to Mrs. Hojnacki to make a decision, so I should compromise and take her case against my wish, but only on one condition."

"Which is?"

"No more pranks until the investigation is over. Deal?"

"Deal!" Rick snapped up his brother's offer eagerly. "Why don't I give Karyn a call to arrange a meeting?"

"Yeah, go ahead," muttered A.J. with a sigh of resignation.


	3. Chapter 3

The Simon brothers drove to Fairmont Park in A.J.'s Camaro to see Karyn Hojnacki. The apartment complex she resided in was within the mid-price range, clean with certain amenities but not too fancy.

Rick knocked on the door of Karyn's unit, and she answered it almost immediately. She was tall, about five-nine, or ten in flats, in her mid-thirties, give or take a few years. She had green eyes of a Bengal tiger and wavy red hair, which was not orange or reddish brown but flaming red that matched the color of her lipstick. And she had nice curves and great, long legs that she showed off in Capri pants, Rick noticed.

"Hi. Mrs. Karyn Hojnacki? I'm…"

"Tall, dark and just rugged—you must be Rick. And I told you, it's Karyn. Come on in."

As Karyn opened the door wide to let the brothers in, A.J. cued his brother by tugging his jacket sleeve.

"Karyn, this is my brother, A.J."

Before A.J. could greet her, she saw him standing behind Rick and exclaimed, "Oh, my! He _is_ cute! No wonder Jennifer can't stop talking about him."

A.J. turned traffic-light red but managed to mutter, "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Karyn made a great first impression on Rick. He'd give any woman who could make his brother squirm a high mark.

Karyn led Rick and A.J. to the living room. Rick sat next to her on the couch while A.J. chose the armchair to put as much space as possible between him and her.

"I'm having some coffee. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, or something a little stronger?" asked she looking into Rick's eyes.

"Um, a cup of coffee would be nice, thank you," answered Rick.

"How would you like it? Cream? Sugar?"

"Black."

"Just like a man. I knew it."

Karyn stood up laughing playfully. "Can I get you anything, hon?" She asked A.J.

"No, thank you." A.J. politely turned down the offer.

When Karyn returned from the kitchen with the coffee, Rick started talking shop.

"All right, Karyn. Before we start, we'd like some background information on your husband. Tell us anything you can think of—it might help our investigation in some way."

"Well, there's not much to tell you," said she with a shrug. "Ben grew up in New York as a ward of the state."

"Any relatives you know of?" asked Rick.

"None. No known relatives. Anyway, as soon as he turned eighteen, he left the state and drifted. I met him in Vegas a couple of years ago. He said he'd just come back from Mexico, where he'd worked as a roughneck in some oilfields for a few years. I'm from Bridgeport, Connecticut, just across Long Island Sound from Port Jeff—Port Jefferson, New York—so we share some common background, and a few months after we first met, he moved in with me. A couple of months before we moved to San Diego, we got married."

"How old is he?" asked Rick.

"He'll be forty-two in December."

A.J. looked up from his notes that he had been meticulously taking and asked, "What does your husband do? Where does he work?"

"He worked as a heavy machinery operator at Ace Appliances' warehouse."

"Worked?" Rick and A.J. asked in unison.

"I talked to the foreman the other day looking for Ben. Said my husband had been a no-show for a week or more. He asked me if I want to come pick up his last check, or if I want him to mail it to me."

Rick and A.J. looked at each other, alarmed. _Uh-oh!_

"Karyn, do you work?" Rick asked although Jennifer had said Karyn didn't work.

"No, but I've done a lot of waitressing in the past. Why do you want to know?" She searched the brothers' faces. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. You don't have to worry about getting stiffed." She giggled.

"Our rate is four hundred dollars per day plus expenses." A.J. informed the newest client to be on the safe side.

"No problem. I live in a cheap apartment, but that doesn't mean I'm indigent, okay? I received a lump sum payment of the benefits from the insurance company when I lost my former husband."

The brothers expressed their sympathy. A brief but awkward silence followed. Strategizing the next move, Rick reached for a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket but hesitated to ask Karyn if he could smoke—there was no ashtray on the coffee table.

The eyes of Karyn the waitress didn't miss a thing. "Go ahead, Rick. You can use the saucer for an ashtray."

"Uh, thanks."

As Rick lit his cigarette, A.J. took over the questioning, "Does you husband have friends at work? Anywhere?"

"He's been a drifter most of his adult life, and he keeps to himself. The only true friend he ever had was also a drifter, but he died on the street. Pneumonia, Ben said, but who knows, they were street kids." Karyn frowned remembering something. "He used to say, 'Bean and I were the Often Brothers.'"

"Often Brothers?" asked Rick blowing out the cigarette smoke. "What's that mean?"

"He never tells me. Whenever I ask, he'd only say, 'Cultivate more interest in books and theater,' like it's a big joke."

"The Pirates of Penzance!" A.J. suddenly spoke up excitedly.

"Huh? What're ya talkin' about?" asked Rick.

"I think he's referring to a certain joke in an operetta called The Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert & Sullivan."

Seeing a blank look on Rick's face, A.J. continued, "There's a scene in Act One where the communication between two characters breaks down because they have trouble differentiating 'often' and 'orphan.'"

"_That_ is the dumbest thing I've ever heard," proclaimed Rick.

"It's a British comedy."

"My brother loves books and theater." Rick explained to Karyn almost apologetically.

"So does my husband." She turned her attention to A.J. "So, he's trying to say he and Bean were orphan brothers?"

"Maybe they grew up together in an orphanage or had the same foster parents. Do you remember anything else?" asked A.J.

Karyn shook her head. "Nope. I don't know Bean's real name, or where he was from. Ben doesn't like talking about his childhood in New York. Too painful for him."

"Not that it really matters. I mean, this guy, Bean, died long ago, right?" Rick chimed in. "What about other friends and acquaintances? Does your husband occasionally have a drink with his coworkers?"

"He's not much of a drinker, but he's gone out with the boys from work to have a few, maybe five, six times. I don't know the names of any of these guys though. Except Ron, but he's no friend of Ben's."

"Let me guess—the boss?" asked Rick grinning.

Karyn nodded. "Ben says Ron's a blowhard who doesn't know what he's doing. My husband's real smart, but his social skills are sub-par. Once he made a mistake of correcting, and I quote, 'a glaring error' in Ron's presentation in front of everyone, including the head honcho who was visiting the site that day. Ever since, Ron's been on the warpath, making Ben's life at work a living hell."

"Do you know if this animosity between them has ever resulted in physical altercations?" asked A.J.

"As far as I know, no."

"Nevertheless, we will interview him and a few other people at his workplace," assured A.J.

"So, tell me what happened the day before your husband disappeared. Did you have a fight? Or did you see anything out of the ordinary?" asked Rick.

"You know, I've been racking my brain to remember anything that might be relevant, but I always come up with nothing. Sure, we may have had a few harsh words, but they didn't amount to a fight. All married couples do that from time to time, right?"

"Oh, sure." Rick nodded authoritatively. "But let us know if you remember anything at all, okay?"

"Sure."

"What kind of car does he drive? Do you know the make and model?" Rick continued the questioning.

"We have only one car, and I have it. A 79 Skylark"

The brothers exchanged a look of disbelief.

"Does he know how to drive?" asked Rick.

"Of course he does. He's a great mechanic too. It's just that he's so used to not driving a car having been a transient for so long. He takes the bus to work."

The brothers made a mental note to check on car rental companies and public transportation services including taxis.

"Do you have any idea how much cash your husband had on him the last time you saw him? Does he have credit cards?" asked A.J.

"He doesn't like carrying too much money, so I'd say about fifty bucks. Ben doesn't have any credit cards 'cause his credit history is little to none."

"But he does have a bank account, doesn't he? A joint account maybe?" asked Rick. Seeing Karyn nodding her head, he added, "Could you check with your bank to see if he made any withdrawals from his account since the day of disappearance?"

"Sure," agreed Karyn with little enthusiasm. "What else do you need?"

"Ah, we need to poke around a little bit if you don't mind," said Rick.

"What we'd like to see is his personal effects such as correspondence, clothing, personal records. We also would like a recent picture of your husband." A.J. explained their request in detail.

"Okay, but there isn't much. Ben's not materialistic. And there's no personal letters 'cause he has no close friends or relatives," said Karyn as she stood up and walked ahead of the brothers to the main bedroom.

She was right; Ben's clothes occupied less than a third of the closet space. Rick began to methodically check the pockets of Ben's jackets and shirts while A.J. examined several photographs of the Hojnackis on the chest of drawers. The photos were too small to see Ben's facial features clearly. Some showed Karyn and Ben standing side by side, which gave A.J. a rough idea of how tall the missing man was—he was perhaps an inch or two taller than his wife. That meant Ben was probably between five-ten and six feet.

"Excuse me, ma'am," said A.J. to Karyn. He couldn't bring himself to call the new client by her first name. "Do you have a close-up shot of your husband?"

"He's real camera-shy, but there should be one or two close-ups somewhere in the photo albums," answered Karyn.

"He's, what, around five-eleven, six feet? About one-seventy? Brown hair, brown eyes?"

"Six-one. I don't remember his weight, but he's lean. He has dark brown hair and hazel eyes."

A.J. saw a pile of books on one of the nightstands and read the titles: _Roots_ by Alex Haley, Collected Plays of Peter Shaffer, _The Greek Coffin Mystery_ by Ellery Queen, H. P. Lovecraft Anthology, _I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings_ by Maya Angelou, _Language and Mind_ by Noam Chomsky, _Mein Kampf_…

Seeing A.J. pawing through the books, Karyn commented, "Ben reads three or four books at the same time. Isn't that crazy? I don't know how he can follow several different plots all at once."

"Reading books of different genres might help—his literary interest is quite diverse."

Rick listened in on the conversation between A.J. and Karyn while going through Ben's clothes in the closet. A few minutes into the search, his probing hand found something in the pocket of a windbreaker. The tactile sensation detected what it was before he actually saw it—a matchbook. He took it out of the pocket and held it in the palm of his hand.

"Find something interesting?" asked A.J. and took a few steps toward Rick to inspect the object in his hand.

"Don't know yet," replied Rick as he turned the matchbook over. "Todd's Tavern. Do you know if there's a bar by that name in this neighborhood, Karyn?"

Karyn frowned. "Um, no, I don't think so, but I'm not sure. Sorry."

"That's okay. The phone number's listed right here. We'll check it out."

Rick tossed the matchbook to A.J. and continued his search. When it was over, all three of them returned to the living room.

Karyn eventually found good enough a photograph of Ben in suit and tie.

"How recent is this picture?" asked Rick.

"It was taken right after our wedding, so ten months ago."

"Sounds good." Rick nodded his approval. "I guess we got enough stuff for now. Before we go, I want to let you know that we'll give you a daily report by phone, a written report within a week if you'd like."

"I'd like that."

The brothers left Karyn's apartment a short while later. As they walked down the stairs, Rick began laying out his investigation plan.

"This guy, Ben, is practically broke, and he doesn't have a car, so unless he has some serious money stashed away somewhere, the chances are he's still nearby. We'll contact the police to see if they checked the local hospitals, the coroner's office, and shelters. But, of course, that's the easy part. He's been a drifter, so he knows how to get by with little resources…"

Rick realized then that A.J. had been uncharacteristically reticent. "A.J.?"

"Yeah, I'm listening," replied A.J., but he sounded as excited as a man en route to the dentist for a root canal.

"Hey." Rick put his hand on A.J.'s shoulder and pushed him back slightly to make his brother face him. "What's eatin' you?"

"I don't know, Rick, but some things just don't add up."

"Like what?"

A.J. took out a matchbook from the pant pocket. "Like this one, for instance."

"What's so strange about it? I get matchbooks from local bars all the time."

"Yes, you do, but I don't. Know why? 'Cause you smoke and I don't."

Something clicked in Rick's head. "Okay, so there was no ashtray on the coffee table. But it is possible that Karyn cleaned it and didn't put it back on the table."

"Not very likely." A.J. disputed. "One of the reasons I hate getting in your boat cabin is that it smells like a giant ashtray. Karyn's apartment has no trace of cigarette odor anywhere even on Ben's clothes. And I didn't see yellow nicotine stains on the walls and the ceiling. No ashtray on the nightstand by Ben's side of the bed either, just books—how can you explain that if you're trying to prove he's a smoker? I know you have a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and an ashtray among other things on your nightstand because you like to smoke first thing in the morning."

"What're ya sayin'? Someone planted the matchbook to throw us off?"

"Or, to lead us to the path they want us to choose."

Rick stared at his brother. "Isn't it too early to be so paranoid even for you?"

"I'm just pointing out some facts."

"But you're making a lot of assumptions as well. There are other possible scenarios, you know. Maybe Karyn's a neat-freak and won't let her husband smoke at home, and she washes his clothes real good to get the tobacco smell out before she hangs them in the closet. Maybe Ben's a non-smoker and got the matchbook to remember the name of the bar or the phone number. Or, maybe he lit a cigarette for his buddy, or a lady sitting next to him at the bar. The matchbook's been used, if you haven't noticed. And if it bothers you so much, why didn't you ask Karyn if Ben smokes or not?"

A.J. made a face sticking out his lower lip. "It's not just the matchbook, Rick. There are other things that bother me."

"Don't do this, A.J." Anger that simmered under the surface crept into Rick's voice. "You agreed to take this case."

"Yeah," said A.J. grudgingly. "But you can't make me like it. Particularly the way Mrs. Hojnacki latched onto you right from the beginning."

Wide-eyed, Rick stared at A.J. "So, is that it? Is that what's bothering you?"

"Don't you think it's strange…?"

Rick cut his brother off, "You may be real popular among lots of girls, but that doesn't make you God's gift to women, you know."

"What?" The unwarranted accusation of vanity and jealousy caused A.J.'s jaw to drop. "That's not…"

"Jennifer has a crush on you; Karyn's sweet on me. What's wrong with that?"

With that pronouncement, Rick stalked off signaling that he'd had enough of his brother. A.J.'s shoulders slumped a little. He knew it was futile to reason with Rick when he was in a dark mood like this. "Will you please leave Jennifer out of this?" He grumbled feebly as he trudged along behind his brother.


	4. Chapter 4

Rick and A.J. Simon's first step in their investigation was visiting Ben Hojnacki's last known workplace, Ace Appliances' warehouse, which was conveniently located within a relatively short distance from his apartment. A couple of workers informed the brothers that Ron Sanders was in his office on the second floor.

"Let's split up. You go talk to Ron, and I'll find Ben's buddies on the floor. It's quicker that way." Rick suggested.

It made sense, but A.J. wondered if Rick was still angry with him. He had spoken only a dozen words or so during the drive from the Hojnackis' apartment.

"Okay. See you in a bit, Rick."

Rick was already walking off without another word. He sure knew how to make his brother feel guilty for no good reason even when A.J. was trying his best to look after him.

A.J. knocked on Ron Sanders' office door, and someone inside barked, "Come in!"

Ron was seated at his desk, but A.J. could see he was a large man in his fifties with no neck and a barrel chest. The man glared at the visitor and said, "Sit down."

"Hello, Mr. Sanders? I'm A.J. Simon. I'd like to speak to you if you have a moment."

Ron grimaced when a suit walked in. He hated the suits from the home office, even a young minion like this one.

"What do ya want?" Ron snapped trying to prove to the snot-nosed kid he wouldn't get intimidated by a kiss-ass from the HQ.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions regarding Mr. Ben Hojnacki. I understand that you recently terminated his employment," replied A.J. wondering what he'd done to offend the big man as he seated himself in a chair.

"Yeah. He stopped showing up at work over a week ago. No calling in sick, no explanation. It's all in my report. Didn't you read it?"

It took A.J. a couple of moments to realize that Ron had mistaken him for another Ace Appliances employee from the Human Resources Department. He briefly debated with himself over this misconception and decided not to correct the error.

"Yes, of course. But I'd like to ask you a few more questions on the events and circumstances that might have led to the unexplained absenteeism."

"Like what?" Ron detested those college snobs that spoke like they'd learned to speak English by reading textbooks, or watching PBS.

"It was brought to our attention that you had less than a cordial work relationship with Mr. Hojnacki…"

"Who told you that?" shouted Ron. A vein popped out on his temple.

"That's not for me to say or know," said A.J. cautiously. "You should know as a person in a managerial position that it is against our company policy to sanction a whistleblower, and that any employee is allowed to report their concern or problem at work freely and anonymously," bluffed A.J., betting on that Ron hadn't read the employees' manual cover to cover.

"Makes no difference anyway," said Ron, still posturing. "I never did anything wrong. Ben's a know-it-all with a big mouth who doesn't like to be told what to do."

"So, nothing out of the ordinary happened during the last few days before his disappearance?"

Ron glowered at A.J. "Are you trying to insinuate I did something to him?"

"Certainly not. This is only a routine question for our investigation." A.J. kept a straight face, but he was getting fed up with Ron's attitude. "Do you have anything else to add to our report?"

"No!" Ron spat out the word. "Is that all?"

A.J. was about to say 'yes' then changed his mind. "Just one more thing—do you still have Mr. Hojnacki's personal effects stored somewhere?"

_**S&S S&S**_

Rick ambled into the employees' break room ignoring the 'employees only' sign. No one stopped him or cared—he looked like one of them, but had they looked closely, they would have noticed that he was wearing cowboy boots, not work boots like everybody else.

It was not yet noon, but there were some people having early lunch. Probably on a mandatory lunch break regulated by the union, Rick figured. He walked up to a couple of men his age and sat down on the bench next to them like it was the most natural thing to do.

"Hi, there," greeted Rick.

One of the men acknowledged him with a slight nod, his mouth full. The other man with a bushy mustache said, "Hey," and looked at Rick with mild curiosity. "Are you new?"

"Nah, not really." Rick kept his answer vague and open-ended. "I'm just looking for Ben. Ben Hojnacki. You know him?"

The two men exchanged a knowing look.

"You mean, you don't know?" asked the Mustache.

"Know what?" Rick feigned ignorance. "I've been out of town for two weeks."

"Ron Sanders finally got his wish—he fired Ben."

"What?" Rick cried out with all of his thespian skills he could muster. "You mean, Bennie finally popped him one?"

"No, nothing like that though I do wish someday someone would give Ron what he deserves," said the Mustache shaking his head.

"So, what happened?"

"Nothing. Ben simply stopped showing up about ten days ago, which isn't like him 'cause he's never missed a day of work except the time he had the flu."

"Know what happened to him? Did anybody talk to him, or his wife, Karyn?" asked Rick.

"Ask Hank. He called Ben's wife almost a week ago. He's on the same team as Ben's," informed the Mustache.

"Is he here?"

The Mustache took a look around and shook his head. "No, he's not…" He paused in the mid-sentence as he saw another man in a plaid shirt and jeans with a lunchbox walk into the break room. "Oh, there he is. Hank! Hey, Hank!"

Hank made his way to the table Rick was sitting at and sat across from the Mustache. "Hey. What's up, Pete?"  
>"Well, this fella here," Pete the Mustache turned to Rick. "What's your name?"<p>

"Rick."

"Yeah, Rick's looking for Ben and wants to know if you heard anything from his wife."

Hank shook his head. "Nothing much. Said she hadn't seen him for days, has no idea where he is." He looked at Rick apologetically. "Sorry, Rick."

"Can you think of any explanation why he all of a sudden dropped out of sight? I've often heard Ben bitchin' about Ron. Do you know if anything happened between them before his disappearance? Did you hear or see anything unusual?"

Hank let out a sigh. "You know, I almost wish Ron had something to do with this, but, for the life of me, I can't think of anything to tell you."

Rick hadn't had high hopes to find any earth-shattering clues here, but still, he was somewhat disappointed at the news. "Thanks anyway. It's just that it's been hard on his wife…"

"Speaking of Karyn…" Hank broke in. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure. What is it?" asked Rick quizzically.

"Ben loaned me a paperback just a couple of days before…this happened. If it isn't too much, could you give that back to Karyn?"

"Sure thing. I'm going to see how she's holding up anyway. You done with the book?"

"Not really," confessed Hank sheepishly. "I'm kinda surprised he recommended it. It's just a dime novel. I know he reads classic whodunits and Gothic horror stories among other things, but this one is just plain trash."

Rick's PI antennae started to twitch. "You have it here?"

"No, it's in my locker. Why don't I go fetch it before I forget?" Hank started to rise from the bench.

"Wait. Do you mind if I tag along?"

Hank walked into the employees' locker room ahead of Rick and mumbled under his breath, "Well, looky here…"

Rick was surprised to see his brother with a big guy who looked like an aging, out-of-shape former wrestler and assumed he was Ron Sanders. A.J. was going through the contents of one of the lockers, presumably Ben's.

"Wonder who the other guy is," said Rick as if he knew exactly what Hank was talking about.

"Probably a suit, or a gofer for the suits from the home office." Hank replied absentmindedly as he unlocked his locker and shoved the accumulated junk aside in search of the paperback. "Ah! Found it!" He handed the book to Rick.

It was practically brand new, showing no sign of wear and tear on the spine or the cover. Rick's reading materials occasionally included some cheap dime novels, the kind A.J. would turn his nose up at; however, he was put off by the book he held in his hand. The title and the illustration on the cover were crude and simply in bad taste.

Rick opened the book and turned a few pages looking for some annotations, notes, or anything. As he turned another page, a piece of paper fell out of the book. He picked up and unfolded it. On it was a street address.

"Is this yours, Hank?" asked Rick showing the paper to Hank.

Hank read the address on the paper and shook his head. "No. That's Ben's handwriting."

"Do you know anyone who lives at this address? Does room number 522 ring a bell?"

Hank pursed his lips. "Not right off the top of my head." He shook his head. "Sorry."

"Hey, don't be. You've been a great help, Hank. Thanks." Rick patted Hank on the arm.

"I have?" said Hank skeptically.

"You bet. Well, I better get going now, but I'll let you know if I find anything."

"Yeah, you do that. See you 'round, Rick."

Back at the parking lot, Rick didn't have to wait too long for A.J. to come back to his Chevy. When he saw his brother sitting in the car, A.J. started to jog.

"Hey," said A.J. getting into the driver's seat. "Find anything?"

"Yeah. You?"

A.J. nodded and produced a business card from the pocket of his jacket.

"Mike's Car Wash?" Baffled, Rick looked up at A.J.

A.J. turned the business card over to show what was written on the other side: Fairlane #6, and a phone number. "I found this in a pocket of Ben's uniform."

"Fairlane #6… Must be an apartment, or a motel," muttered Rick to himself.

"What'd you find?" A.J. asked eagerly.

When Rick pulled the paperback out of the pocket of his jacket, A.J. recoiled, repulsed by the lurid cover. "Good God! That can't possibly be Ben's!"

"A guy named Hank says it is," said Rick chuckling at his brother's overreaction. "But there's more."

Rick took out the piece of paper tucked between the last page and the back cover.

"What's that?" asked A.J. still keeping a wary eye on the book.

"A street address of an apartment, maybe a hotel or motel. No phone number though." Rick put the paper in his shirt pocket, the book in the glove compartment. "So, what do you make of all this?"

"Odd—that's what." A.J. sneaked a quick peek at Rick. "Now, I don't want you to get mad at me for saying this, but you do know deep down that things are not quite right, don't you?"

Rick did, but he didn't want to admit A.J. was right. "Okay. Tell me what's troubling you then."

"Are you kidding? A matchbook for a non-smoker—Ron Sanders said Ben doesn't smoke, a car wash business card for someone who doesn't drive, a trashy paperback for a bibliophile. Don't tell me you don't think they're downright surreal. They stick out like a pro football player hiding among a bunch of cheerleaders. Just one of them might be a fluke, but all three? Uh-uh. You too think Ben planted these to steer us in our investigation, don't you?"

Rick shrugged noncommittally. "Possible. But the question is, for what? What's Ben trying to tell us? And who was supposed to find them? The police? Karyn? His girlfriend we don't know of?"

"How the hell should I know?" Frustrated, A.J. tapped the steering wheel with his fist. "One thing's for sure though; these clues he left for our convenience won't tell us where he is. If you wanted to go into hiding, would you intentionally leave clues to reveal where you might be? And if he's involved in a kidnapping case or something more heinous, there's no way Ben could have known what was going to happen to him, or where he'd be taken to."

"So, what do you suggest we do now? Just follow the crumbs and see what exactly Ben wants us to find at the end of the trail hoping it would give us some clue for his disappearing act?"

"You have any better idea?"

A.J. turned on the car engine when Rick couldn't come up with an alternative.


	5. Chapter 5

Rick and A.J. called and got the direction to get to Todd's Tavern from the barkeep. It was a dive bar in a working-class neighborhood. The brothers noted that it was not directly on the city bus routes, and that it was good fifteen miles away from Ben's workplace, even farther from his home.

A.J. pulled into the parking lot at the back and was surprised to see about a dozen parked cars though it was still early in the afternoon.

"I can't imagine Ben frequenting this particular bar—there are so many watering holes in his neighborhood and near his workplace," said A.J.

"Well, in that case, let's go inside and see if we can solve his riddle," said Rick as he got out of the passenger seat.

The bar was in an early afternoon lull. A couple of barflies were at the counter quietly sipping their drinks while several other patrons were seated at booths here and there. A barmaid traipsed around the tables chatting with and taking orders from the customers.

As Rick and A.J. approached the counter, the bartender who had been polishing glasses behind the counter looked up from his task beaming at the new arrivals.

"Good afternoon. It's always nice to see new faces."

"You know most of your regulars?" asked Rick settling down on a barstool.

"I sure do. I've been running this place for over fifteen years, bought it from the original owner in '75." The bartender and owner proudly announced.

"So, you're Todd?"

"No, I kept the old business name when I bought the ownership. I'm Graham."

"Rick's my name."

"What can I get you guys, Rick?"

"Coke or 7Up for my brother." Rick gestured towards A.J. "He's driving."

"One 7Up coming right up." Graham had begun squirting bubbly, clear liquid into a glass. "And what would you like?"

"A beer."

"We have Bud, Bud Light, Heineken, Dos Equis…"

"Surprise me."

Graham raised his eyebrow and grinned at Rick with a twinkle in his eye. "Tell you what—if you can correctly name the beer I serve you, it'll be on the house."

"All right! Bring it on, pal." The wattage of Rick's smile turned up.

Sipping the soft drink he didn't want, A.J. quietly observed the interaction between the two men and, for the hundredth time, marveled at his brother's gift of gab. They had been total strangers only a minute ago, and now they were chatting like a couple of old friends. It was the gift he secretly admired and envied.

Rick lifted the glass that Graham had set down, took a mouthful of beer and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing it.

"Mm-hmm. Oh, yeah. I've tasted this many times before. It's…it's right on the tip of my tongue. It's…" Rick's eyes closed for a second then sprang open. "Corona!"

Graham laughed out loud. "You are correct, sir!"

The barflies joined the merriment and congratulated Rick.

"You went easy on me, didnya, Graham? You coulda picked one of fancy schmancy imports, or a local microbrew to make it tougher." Rick played a humble winner.

"I'll make it tougher next time," said Graham taking a quick glance at Rick and A.J. "If there is one."

Rick cocked his eyebrow questioningly.

"Didn't you call here a while ago asking for the direction?" Graham grinned a puckish grin.

Rick grinned back at Graham. "You really are good at remembering faces and voices, aren't you?"

"It comes with the territory." Graham shrugged. "So, what brought you here today?"

"This." Rick took out the picture of Ben Hojnacki and placed it on the counter. "We're trying to track down this man. Ever seen him here?"

Graham studied the photograph of Ben intently. Rick found the answer in the bar owner's eyes when he lifted his gaze.

"No, I've never seen him before." Graham sounded disappointed. "How about you, guys?" He picked up the picture and showed it to the regulars at the counter.

"No," was their answer in a drunken chorus. They quickly lost their interest and went back to their drinks. The barmaid didn't recognize Ben either.

"Is he in trouble?" asked Graham handing back the photo to Rick.

"He's not in trouble with the law if that's what you mean, but he's been missing. His wife hired us to locate him."

"You're PIs."

Rick nodded.

"Excuse me," said A.J. softly, sliding off the barstool. He showed Rick the car wash business card to indicate he was going to call the phone number on the back of the card.

Watching his brother walk toward the pay phones, Rick remembered he had one more question to ask. He took out the sheet of paper with an unknown address.

"Graham, do you recognize this address?"

Graham shook his head. "No, I don't know whose address that is, but I know the area well. It's not too far from here. It's in the Mission Valley West neighborhood. You can get there in five to ten minutes, traffic permitting."

"Really? That's good to know. We got a city map in our car, so we should be able to find the way to get there."

Rick scooted off the barstool and got his wallet out. He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter.

"Rick, I told you—the drink's on the house." Graham protested.

"Yeah, but you didn't say anything about the soft drink and the gratuity," said Rick with a crooked smile.

Graham held his gaze for a moment then nodded. "Thanks, Rick."

"_De nada_, _amigo_." Rick smiled and cast his eyes over A.J. His brother was still on the phone. "Could you tell my brother, A.J. over there, that I'll be waiting for him outside?"

"Happy to," beamed Graham. "Hope to see you again."

"Likewise." Rick touched the brim of his hat to bid farewell.

A few minutes later, A.J. hung up the phone and returned to the counter only to find Rick gone.

"Excuse me…"

Before A.J. asked the question, Graham answered, "Your brother's waiting for you outside."

"Oh. Thank you."

A.J. put his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket to get his wallet.

"It's all taken care of, A.J. Rick paid for your drink and then some," said Graham with an avuncular smile.

A.J. thanked the bar owner again and was about to leave when he saw one of the barflies at the counter lighting his cigarette. The cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, he tossed the matchbook he'd been using on the counter.

"Excuse me, but may I take a look at this?" pointing at the matchbook, A.J. asked the man with a smoke.

"You can keep it if you want. I got a whole bunch of 'em."

It was one of those matchbooks advertising Todd's Bar. A.J. took out the one he had from his pocket. His was shiny gold in color with a fancy Italic font for the business name; the other was red with a bold block font.

Graham noticed A.J. comparing a couple of matchbooks. "Where did you get that? The one you got is almost brand new."

A.J. raised his head. "How new?"

"Our vendor that sells promo items talked me into changing the look of our matchbook, offering me a break in pricing, so I got the first batch of new matchbooks about three weeks ago."

A.J. wasn't sure how significant, if at all, the information Graham had provided would be, but committed the data in his memory. He thanked Graham yet again and left the bar.

A.J. went out of the backdoor and walked into the parking lot where he had parked his car. As he took several steps toward his Camaro, he blinked a few times refusing to believe what he had just seen, but apparently there was nothing wrong with his vision. He was still looking at his Camaro with Rick in it. Only his brother appeared to have dived head first into the legroom under the glove compartment. His legs rested atop the back of the passenger seat, the bottoms of his boots contemplating the sky above.

"Rick?" A.J. wasn't sure what to make of this. He stood by the car staring at Rick's jean-clad legs.

Rick only moaned and said something unintelligible.

"Quit fooling around, Rick."

More muffled utterance from under the seat.

"Hey, no more pranks till the case is over! You promised!"

"I'm not fooling around!" Rick's voice was still small and muffled but full of annoyance. "Help me up, for God's sake!"

The tetchiness in Rick's voice alone was good enough to convince A.J. he was serious. He immediately opened the passenger-side door and grabbed Rick's ankles to pull his lower body out of the car. He then grasped the collar of Rick's shirt and pulled him up.

Rick was hatless. A.J. saw his hat on the backseat. There was a lump forming on the top of Rick's head.

"Ouch," said A.J. looking at the knot. "That must hurt."

"It coulda been worse if I hadn't been wearing my hat," said Rick wincing as he put his hat back on.

"That's for sure—since you haven't got much else on the top of your head for protection."

Rick slapped his hand over his brother's face and gave him a hard shove. A.J. stumbled backwards and landed on his rear.

"Hey!" A.J. didn't complain much because he knew he and his wisecrack had earned this one. "What happened to you anyway?" asked he getting back on his feet.

"I was minding my own business, just standing here waiting for you, and someone snuck up behind and smacked me on the head."

"So, you didn't see who it was?"

"Couldn't. Told you he snuck up on me."

"Did he take anything?

Rick checked on his valuables.

"My wallet's gone, damn it!"

"Anything else?"

Rick checked again. "No, nothing else. I still have my watch, keys…"

"What about your gun?"

Rick opened his jacket to show his .44 Magnum in the shoulder holster.

"That's odd," said A.J. almost to himself.

"I wish you'd stop saying that." Rick sighed.

"I can't help it 'cause it _is_ odd. Whoever took your wallet could have taken your Magnum and sold it for a lot of money, definitely for more than what he finds in your wallet."

"Maybe he's not a firearm connoisseur like you and me."

"But why didn't he take the gun with him? Robberies and weapons go hand-in-hand. A nice piece like yours can make a petty thief's job much easier. And don't you think this guy's way too dumb even for a petty criminal to leave you, the victim, still armed with a powerful and lethal weapon?"

"I can think of lots of reasons. It could be that he didn't have enough time…to…"

Rick broke off staring into space. His right hand slowly made its way up to one of his shirt pockets.

"I'll be damned…" Rick cursed under his breath when he found the pocket empty.

"What?" A.J. asked breathlessly.

"The address…"

"Huh?"

"The piece of paper that I found in Ben's book. The one with some address in Mission Valley West—it's missing."

Bewildered, the brothers stared at each other.

"I know you'll hate me for saying this, but it is getting weirder, don't you think? Or, maybe you can come up with some perfectly reasonable explanation for this too, huh?" A.J. gave his brother a little dig.

"Just give me some time…" Rick countered with little conviction.


	6. Chapter 6

"Man, this is such a waste of time," grumbled Rick for the umpteenth time.

He and A.J. had been in the waiting room of the urgent care unit at a local hospital for nearly two hours waiting to be examined. Prior to their trip to the hospital, A.J. had called the police to report the theft. He had persuaded Rick that he needed a copy of the police report to file a claim for stolen credit cards and his PI license that he'd had in his wallet.

It was already past four-thirty, and there were still two or three people ahead of Rick waiting to be called upon.

"I really don't need to see a doctor. I've had it worse before, and you know it." Rick resumed his complaint.

"You do need medical attention, Rick. You had a concussion. I know a thing or two about it, believe me."

"Oh yeah? What made you an expert?"

"You."

"Me? I've never hit you on the head so hard that you had a concussion."

"Not intentionally, but I do remember getting a blow to my head by courtesy of Rick Simon from time to time when we were kids."

"Like when?"

"Thankfully, I don't remember this incident because I was so little, but according to Mom, you decided you were old enough to ride a big boys' bike when you were eight or nine, and you rode it standing up with me sitting on the back. Mom says you and I scared the bejesus out of the kids you were playing with when I fell off the bike and started bawling in the middle of the street with a bleeding head wound. You're lucky she didn't have a heart attack when you brought me home."

Rick had a fuzzy memory of it, but he vividly remembered being grounded for his misadventure.

"And remember you used to pick me up and spin me round and round till we got too dizzy to stand up?"

"Yeah, you used to beg me for it."

"Well, that's not the point. One day, when you were in sixth grade, you grabbed me by the ankles instead of hands and spun me around. In our bedroom."

Rick remembered that one clearly.  
>"You didn't complain. As I recall, you seemed to enjoy it at first."<p>

"Rick, I was only six years old. Kids at that age don't have a lot of common sense. How was I supposed to know that my head might come in contact with, say, a leg of your desk in such a risky behavior?"

Another trip to the ER for A.J., a longer sentence for Rick.

"And a few years later, we went on hiking during our family camping trip." A.J. was on a roll now. "You got bored on the trail and started swinging your backpack trying to hit me with it though Mom repeatedly told you to stop."

"I was just pretending to hit you." Rick corrected A.J. to set the record straight.

"Pretending or not, you did smack me in the face giving me a nosebleed and a concussion when I fell backwards and hit the back of my head on a boulder."

"Those were all accidents. I didn't mean to cause any of them," said Rick defensively.

"Yeah, that's the scary part—you were playing nice, or at least we weren't fighting when these 'accidents' happened. With a brother like you, who needs an enemy?"

Just then the receptionist called, "Richard Simon?"

Rick stood up glad to get away from his brother's ranting.

As he watched Rick walking towards the receptionist, A.J. felt a small, cold hand touching his. Startled, he looked to his left and found an old woman with silver hair sitting next to him.

"Sounds like you had a very rough childhood, dear," said she with a look of concern in her watery, faded blue eyes, patting his hand.

A.J. grinned. He hadn't realized he and Rick had had an audience. "Oh, I don't know, ma'am. Just a smidge more than the usual boyhood roughhousing and horseplay, I guess."

"What's your brother here for?"

"He's going to have his head examined."

As soon as he said it, he knew it'd come out wrong, but it was too late.

"Oh, dear. What a pity. He seems to be such a nice young man."

"Well, what I meant to say was…" A.J. broke off. She obviously hadn't heard Rick had had a concussion. He saw his brother go through the double door and head for the examination room.

_Oh, what the heck_. "Everything's under control, ma'am. He's capable of leading a normal life with proper care and monitoring." He wasn't lying to her, he reasoned with himself proffering her a devilishly charming smile.

Rick returned to the waiting room some time later and saw A.J. talking with a tiny old lady who looked like a fragile little bird. They were totally at ease with each other like a grandmother and her favorite grandson at the Sunday dinner table catching up with the latest in their lives. _How does he do that_, he wondered not for the first time, shaking his head.

On one hand, some men found A.J. standoffish, snobbish even, but it was far from the truth. He was a little shy around strangers until he got to know them better. On the other hand, a lot of women young and old found his shyness, combined with his politeness and boyish good looks, utterly irresistible and fawned over him.

Time and again, Rick had wished to be in his brother's shoes to exploit his assets to the fullest—they were wasted on A.J., Mr. Picky, who had to have everything just so: food, clothes, women…

A.J. saw his brother approaching and politely interrupted the old woman's rambling. "Excuse me, Mrs. Hudson."

"A.J. You got company," said Rick smiling down at the old lady.

"Mrs. Hudson, this is my brother, Rick. Rick, Mrs. Hudson."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hudson."

"Nice to meet you too, Rick. I hope everything turned out well. What did the doctor say?"

There was a genuine concern etched on her withered face, which puzzled Rick.

"Ah, I'm fine, ma'am. Thanks for asking."

"Do you need to fill your prescription, Rick?"

Rick wondered why A.J. assumed he had a prescription to fill.

"No. This is nothing a couple of aspirin and a good night's sleep won't cure."

"Well then, we'd better get going," said A.J. As he rose from his seat, he placed his hand on Mrs. Hudson's arm. "It was a pleasure meeting you, ma'am. I hope you'll feel better soon."

She was sad to see him go. _Such a sweet boy, sweet and brave_, thought she tearing up a bit. "I'll keep you in my prayers, dear." She then turned her gaze to Rick and said, "I'll keep both of you in my prayers."

Rick was about to ask her what she had meant by that when A.J. got hold of his arm and started hustling him away from her.

"What's this all about?" asked Rick in a harsh whisper, his eyes narrowing.

"Huh? What're you talking about?" A.J. gave his brother a wide-eyed look of surprise.

Rick knew their mother was a sucker for her youngest son's innocent-little-boy routine, but he could spot it when he saw one. He grabbed the back of A.J.'s neck.

"What the hell did you tell her about me?" Rick dug a finger in on a pressure point.

"Ow, ow, _OW_!"

A.J.'s cry of pain turned some heads in the waiting room. Rick saw from the corner of his eye Mrs. Hudson looking back at him, her eyes filled with terror. He dropped his hand to his side releasing A.J. from his clutch.

"Why's she looking at me like that, huh? What did you tell her?" Rick asked again seething.

Rubbing the sore spot on the back of his neck, A.J. smiled wickedly. "Sheesh! Now look who's being paranoid."

_**S&S S&S**_

Rick and A.J. made it back home shortly after six. Rick immediately volunteered to give Karyn a daily report by phone while his brother assigned himself to the kitchen duty.

Karyn picked up the phone at the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Karyn. It's me, Rick. You got a minute?"

Rick spent the next half an hour or so describing where he and A.J. had been, what they'd found and more.

"A.J. found a phone number scribbled on the back of a business card, and it belongs to a motel called Fairlane." Rick informed Karyn recounting the visit to Ace Appliances.

Her voice taut with tension, Karyn asked, "Do you know my husband is staying there?"

"According to the motel manager, no. But we're going there to check it out tomorrow. In addition to the phone number, room number 6 is on the card."

Karyn fell silent.

"Karyn? You still there?"

"Yes. Do you think Ben's having an affair?"

"We can't exclude that possibility, but we don't think so. We have a hunch that he may have left some clues for us to find, but we can't figure out for what."

"There's more?"

"There was this address I found in a book…"

"Was?"

"Well, someone jumped me and stole my wallet and the sheet of paper with the address."

"Oh my God! Are you all right?"

"Oh yeah. Just a little bump on the head. The doc says it's nothing serious."

"That's good to hear… Um, do you remember the address? Whose address is it?"

"All I know is it's somewhere in the Mission Valley West area. Uh, just a sec."

Rick covered the mouthpiece of the phone and yelled, "A.J.! You remember the address we found in the paperback?"

A.J. lifted his eyes from the skillet on the stove. "How could I? You never showed it to me. All I saw was a piece of paper, which was folded over. Sorry, can't help you there."

"Hey, Karyn? Sorry, we can't remember the whole address, but I remember there was a room number. It was…552? Or, 522, maybe 255… You know someone who lives in Mission Valley West?"

"No," answered Karyn instantly. "Do you think maybe the police will be able to recover it?"

"I don't think so. I probably have a better chance of getting my wallet back sans cash and credit cards."

"Why do you say that?"

"A.J. and I believe the man who committed this crime only tried to make it look like a run-of-the-mill robbery, but it was the address he was after all along. I'm pretty sure he got rid of it as soon as he stole it."

There was a stretch of tense silence. "I don't know what to think." Karyn spoke again, sotto voce. "I'm getting frightened, Rick."

"You know you can call us anytime, but if you'd like, you can stay with us here tonight. We can come pick you up in twenty, thirty minutes…"

"Oh, no. That's not necessary." Karyn quickly turned down Rick's offer. "I'm just being a silly old scaredy-cat."

"Karyn. You may be a scaredy-cat, but you're not silly and certainly not old."

From then on, the conversation veered off course, and the topic turned more personal. They talked about their likes, dislikes, what movies they'd seen lately…

"Rick! Dinner's ready!"

A.J.'s announcement rudely interrupted the intimacy Rick had been enjoying during the call. "Sorry, Karyn. Gotta go. I'll give you a call in the morning, okay?"

"I'd like that," whispered Karyn.

"Take care. Bye, Karyn."

"You too, Rick. Bye."

Hanging up the phone, Rick went to the kitchen to help set the table. A.J. shot a look of disapproval at his brother.

"It's about time you got off the phone."

"Mom used to say the same thing after you'd spent an hour talking to your girlfriend when you were in high school," said Rick opening the refrigerator door to get a can of beer.

As Rick popped the can open, the phone rang. A.J. quickly answered it.

"Hello…? Oh, hi, Mom." He listened for a while. "No, it wasn't me. Rick was talking to our new client."

Rick didn't like the way A.J. had enunciated the word 'client' and let him know with a glare. He set the serving plates and the utensils on the dinner table while A.J. was conversing with their mother.

Rick sat at the table and started on the appetizer without waiting for his brother to finish the call. The deep-fried morsel was crunchy on the outside, chewy on the inside and garlicky. He didn't know what it was, but it tasted darn good.

Eventually, A.J. joined Rick at the table. "Mom says we're to meet her at her place by 5:30 Wednesday evening. Her escort will pick her up in a limousine, you take her car to drive Mrs. Hartmann."

His mouth full, Rick just nodded.

"She called from the airport. Aunt Marion had a minor procedure done, and Mom wants to help her around the house for a few days. She'll be back Monday night."

"Okay," mumbled Rick still chewing.

"So, you like my new recipe." A.J. seemed pleased.

"It's okay." A.J. was a good cook, but Rick didn't want him to have a big head. "What is it?"

"It's called calamari. I got the recipe from Alessandro at Guido's."

"All right. But what's in it?"

"Squid," said A.J. carefully observing his brother's reaction with a grin that he was trying to contain in vain.

"A… _What_?" Rick's fork dropped from his hand and clinked on the plate.

"Squid. It's a delicacy in many parts of Asia and the Mediterranean countries."

"Delicacy my ass! I've been eating fish bait?" Rick's voice rose in disgust and anger.

"Aw, Rick. Where's your sense of culinary adventure?"

"Our line of work is risky enough! I don't want any surprises lurking in my food!"

Rick abruptly stood up.

"Hey, where're you going?"

"I'm ordering a pizza!"

"Chicken!"

"I'd rather have chicken than squid or snail!"

A.J. laughed and bit down on a large ring of calamari with relish.


	7. Chapter 7

A.J. was working on his first cup of coffee around 7:30 the following morning. Rick was still asleep on the couch when the phone rang. Before A.J. could finish his greeting, a hysterical woman started screaming incoherently into his ear.

"Mrs. Hojnacki?" asked A.J. uncertainly.

"Rick?"

"No, this is A.J. What's wrong?"

"Someone broke into my apartment this morning while I was still in bed!"

"Oh, no! Are you hurt?"

"No, but I'm scared!"

"Did you call the police?"

"Not yet."

"In that case, I want you to hang up now and call the police right away. Rick and I will be there as soon as possible. Are you calling from home?"

"Yes. Please tell Rick to hurry!"

"If you feel unsafe staying in your apartment, go see Jennifer and ask her if you could stay with her until the police get there. Or, you can wait for them to arrive in a public place like the courtyard or the parking lot."

The phone call didn't rouse Rick at all. He was still sound asleep when A.J. gave him a few shakes. He groaned and turned his back to A.J., but as soon as Karyn's name was mentioned, he sat up straight on the couch. While A.J. was telling him the gist of the phone conversation with Karyn, Rick put on his boots and hat in silence. He was out the door without a shave, or a cup of coffee.

When Rick and A.J. arrived at Karyn's apartment, a couple of police officers were still there taking a statement from her.

"Rick!" Karyn cried out as the brothers enter the living room and ran into Rick's waiting arms.

One of the cops asked A.J., "Are you two related to…" His eyes briefly fell on his notebook. "Mrs. Hojnacki?"

"No, officer. We're private investigators. She hired us to look for her missing husband. Did she tell you that he's been missing for almost two weeks?"

The cop nodded. "Yeah. She didn't use the deadbolt latch just in case he'd come home. And that's why the burglar got in here so easily. He wasn't much of a burglar though."

A.J. looked around in the living room where personal items, small pieces of furniture were strewn all over in a haphazard way. "Did he take anything at all?"

"The lady says her purse that was on the kitchen counter is missing, but she can't be sure because she's quite upset at the moment."

Karyn was on the couch in Rick's arms completely ignoring the other police officer who was finishing a report. Rick was whispering comforting but meaningless words into her ear.

A.J. received a copy of the police report before the officers left the apartment. Rick and Karyn were still clinging to each other like a couple of hormone-driven teenagers. A.J. doubted they were aware of the fact that the cops had left.

"Rick?" A.J. touched his brother's shoulder. "How's she doing?"

Rick shot a glare at A.J. "How do you think she's doing?"

A.J. managed to control his urge to tell Rick to stop behaving like a jerk. "Maybe we ought to keep her at my place where we can keep an eye on her until she feels safe to come back here."

"I've already suggested that, but she wouldn't listen. One of us can stay with her here tonight though."

_You mean you will stay with her._ A.J. didn't like the idea but held his tongue.

"All right. But we still have work to do, Rick. I don't want her to stay here alone until we return."  
>"We can ask Mom to stay with her during the day."<p>

"Rick. She's at Aunt Marion's. Don't you remember?"

"Oh, right."

"Can I ride along with you when you work outside your office?" Karyn asked Rick.

"No, you can't!" A.J.'s harsh tone earned another glare from his brother. "You know what happened to Rick yesterday. We don't hold a nine-to-five office job, Mrs. Hojnacki. We can always expect the unexpected. To be brutally honest, your presence will be a major distraction in our work because we'll have to divide our attention between the investigation and your safety."

"Rick." Karyn turned to Rick with a look of hurt. "Please?" She clung to him pleading with all her feminine wiles.

Rick rubbed her back to console her. "Sorry, Karyn, but my brother's right. Your safety is our priority." Seeing her face fall, he quickly came up with a compromise to appease her.

"But if you want, you can stay in our office while we're at work."

"Rick…"

A.J. started to argue, but Rick simply talked over him.

"It's not like she'll be in a private home. Our office's in a business building, so there's a lot of people coming and going. Jennifer will be at Terrible Twos if Karyn wants to pop in to visit her. She can either lock herself in till we get back, or she can go out, have lunch and stuff. She'll be safe 'cause there's always a fair amount of foot traffic outside the building."

Rick's voice softened as he spoke to Karyn. "How's that sound? Will you do that for me?"

Karyn wrinkled her nose. "I don't know, Rick…"

"Come on. I'll personally drive you back here in the evening."

Karyn sighed and said reluctantly, "Oh, all right."

Her girlish pout made him chuckle. "Okay. Go get ready then. Time's a-wastin'!"

With a content smile, Rick watched Karyn disappear into her bedroom.

A.J. just stood only a few feet from Rick wondering what had happened to the equal partnership in their investigative business and why he felt like an invisible man.

A.J. trailed behind Rick and Karyn as the trio made their way to the apartment parking lot. He saw them head for her Skylark. When he caught up with them, Rick was opening the door for Karyn.

"I'm gonna drive Karyn to our office 'cause I'll be bringing her back here this evening," said Rick to A.J. As he got into the driver seat, he added, "She kindly has invited us for breakfast, so we're stopping at a nearby diner on the way. Just follow me. Okay?"

Before A.J. could say anything, Rick turned on the engine leaving him no choice but to follow his brother's instruction.

The diner was a mom-and-pop eatery in a business district and doing a brisk business. They took a booth by the window. Rick sat across from Karyn; A.J. took a seat next to his brother. When a middle-aged waitress appeared to take their orders, Karyn suggested they all have the diner's special breakfast plate, but A.J. ordered much lighter fare to assert himself. Besides, he was too upset to be hungry.

"What's the matter, honey? Aren't you hungry?" asked the matronly waitress fretting.

Before A.J. could say anything, Rick spoke up, "He loses appetite whenever he's mooning over a special gal. And he has a thing for older women if you know what I mean." He winked at the waitress.

Everyone except A.J. burst into laughter, and the waitress left the table in much better spirits.

"Stop making up stories, Rick," said A.J. crossly.

"I am not. You do have a thing for older women." Rick insisted.

"All right. Name names then." A.J. challenged.

"Christina Dinsmore."

"Christ… Mrs. Dinsmore? My fifth-grade teacher? Oh, give me a break! She doesn't count!"

"She _was_ pretty hot for a fifth-grade teacher though." Rick offered unsolicited commentary wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Anyway, you fared well with her being in her good graces and all—much better than Brandi Johnston, I'd say."

A.J.'s mouth opened, but no word came forth, and his cheeks began to burn.

"Ooh, who is this Brandi?" asked Karyn in a singsong voice. "A.J.'s first love?"

"Hardly. She didn't know he existed on the same planet."

"She didn't know he existed? That's hard to believe," said Karyn giving A.J. a sideway glance.

"Well, let's put it this way," Rick grinned. "She was a high school senior, the most popular cheerleader who dated a lot of varsity guys, and my brother was a lowly freshman, short," he paused deliberately to make eye contact with his brother, who was glaring at him, "Well, shorter." He raised his hand palm down as if to indicate someone's height then dropped it about a foot or so.

Karyn started giggling. A.J. was getting furious—he got irked every time Rick gave him some ribbing about his height.

"And he still sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk." Rick poured it on.

"I did not!" A.J. denied it emphatically.

"Oh, wait," Rick paused again, "He still does, doesn't he?"

"For Pete's s…" A.J. broke off realizing that he was only supporting Rick's claim. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice to the baritone range. "Stop spreading malicious lies, Rick."

The waitress returned with a coffee carafe, which gave A.J. a respite from Rick's merciless roasting. Their orders followed soon after the coffee had been served, and Rick and Karyn were once again lost in a world of their own.

By the time the trio finished their breakfast and drove back to the office of Simon & Simon, it was past 10:30. Rick dawdled for another twenty minutes or so at the office giving Karyn emergency contact numbers and safety instructions. Parting for them was such sweet sorrow ad nauseum, observed A.J.

As the brothers drove off to finally resume their investigation, A.J. said, "Rick, do you ever wonder why Mrs. Hojnacki hired us, or what we're trying to find?"

"Huh? What're ya talking about?"

"She's spending four hundred dollars plus per day to retain our service and then invites us for long, leisurely breakfast. We wasted half a day doing nothing. And why did Ben vanish though everyone says there was nothing out of the ordinary in his life? And if there was nothing wrong with him, why did he leave all those clues? What was he anticipating?"

"A.J., she just had her home broken into. She was upset and needed someone to lean on for emotional support. It's her money, she can spend it any way she pleases."

A.J.'s question seemed to have struck a raw nerve.

"And we just started working on this case. If you want some answers, keep digging."

A.J. kept his mouth shut. Karyn had become a touchy subject between him and Rick, and the last thing he wanted was a volatile partner and brother; however, he could not help liking the current assignment, and Karyn Hojnacki, less and less. The brothers exchanged very few words on their way to Fairlane Motel.

The motel manager saw two men walk into his office and had them pegged as either cops or private eyes. Fairlane was the kind of place where only one of a couple—or, trio, or whatever the combination—would show up in the office for a hasty registration and checkout. And an inordinate number of the patrons signed in as Smith, Jones, or Johnson, and most of them paid in cash.

The manager thought this pair was rather peculiar, cops or PIs, as one of them was dressed like a cowboy, and the other one looked like an accountant.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I do for you?" asked the manager out of habit.

The one with a cowboy hat took out a photograph and placed it on the counter, but it was his partner who spoke.

"Good afternoon, sir. I know that, as the manager of this establishment, you try to be discreet to protect the patrons' privacy, but we're looking for this man in this picture, who's been missing for some time. And there is a chance that he may have stayed here under a false name. All we ask of you is to take a good look at the picture and tell us if you remember ever seeing him here."

"Ah! You must be the gentleman who called here yesterday asking about a Mr. Ho…"

"Hojnacki, yes. You have excellent memory."

Flattered, the manager smiled. "Thank you, but I'm sorry to say I've never seen this man before."

He could tell the two men were clearly disappointed.

"Okay," said the Cowboy. "What about Room 6? Does it have any special features? Or, did you find anything strange, or out of place in the room recently?"

The manager pondered the questions for several moments cupping his chin in his hand.

"Now that you mentioned, I remember one of the housekeepers telling me about something strange the other day, but I can't remember what it was. It wasn't too big of a deal though."

"Is she here today? May we talk to her?"

"Yes, she started her shift only a short while ago. There are three housekeepers working right now. The one you want is Fariha."

Seeing the odd couple walking out of the office, the manager turned up the volume of his portable TV.

Rick and A.J. located the cleaning crew by spotting the housekeepers' carts parked outside the motel rooms. They found Fariha on the second try.

Rick and A.J. introduced themselves and told her they had the manager's permission to speak to her.

"According to the manager, you found something strange the other day. Was it in or near Room 6 perhaps?" asked A.J.

"Yes, it was in Room 6. It was Tuesday, I think. And I can tell you exactly what it was."

Rick and A.J. urged her with their silence.

"Fingerprint powder," said Fariha with unshakable conviction.

"Fingerprint powder? Are you sure?" Rick asked skeptically.

She nodded. "Of course I'm sure. We don't openly talk about it, but there have been several incidents involving some guests and the police here in the past. I personally cleaned the mess the forensic team had left twice. And one time, I saw them dust every inch of the interior and some furniture in one room."

"Do you know if the police had been summoned the night before you found the dust?" asked A.J.

"I asked David, my supervisor, about the police, and he said 'no,' but I really didn't have to ask him because I know who left the powder."

"Who?" The brothers asked in unison.

"I don't know her name, but the day I found Room 6 covered with the powder, I saw a woman come out of the room—very pretty, dark-haired."

Seeing that she had now a captive audience, Fariha smiled to herself.

"First I thought she was a guest leaving her room, but now when I think back on it, she probably wasn't."

"What makes you say that?" asked A.J.

"Most female guests who come here don't like to be seen or noticed. They stay in their rooms for the duration of their stay and leave quickly with their companions, or leave alone in their own cars. In either case, they always park their cars right here in the parking lot for a quick and easy exit. This lady I told you about walked across the parking lot to go back to her car parked on the street."

Rick and A.J. rewarded her with a nod of approval and an engaging smile.

"You have a keen eye for detail, Fariha. But do you think it's possible that the mystery woman stayed in Room 6 alone to get a little rest before hitting the road again?" A.J. probed further.

Fariha shook her head. "I cleaned the room right after she'd left, and there were…um…" She blushed under her glowing olive complexion. "…certain signs that a man and a woman had been there."

"Right. And women usually don't linger on in a motel room after a tryst dusting the room. Gotcha," jumped in Rick so as not to embarrass her too much. "Like my brother said, you're real observant and smart. Maybe you should consider going into a different line of work like law enforcement."

Fariha's face lit up. "I'm a part-time community college student, but I'm saving money to transfer to a four-year college. I want to major in Criminal Justice."

"Yeah, you do that." Rick smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure you'll do great like my brother did in college, maybe better."

When the brothers pulled out of the motel parking lot a short time later, Rick tipped his hat to Fariha as she waved. Getting back to work, she began humming her favorite tune pushing her cart towards Room 6.

Rick and A.J. drove to Mike's Car Wash next although they weren't expecting to find anything from this visit. The rest of the afternoon proved to be unproductive. They found absolutely nothing at the car wash. When A.J. called the police to check on the status of their investigation on yesterday's robbery at Todd's Tavern, he was told there was no new development or lead. After late lunch and a long wait at DMV to receive a duplicate of Rick's driver license, the brothers noticed the Friday exodus had already begun. With Rick's insistence, A.J. reluctantly turned his car around and started heading back to their office.

_**S&S S&S**_

Karyn seemed ecstatic to be reunited with Rick. A.J. found her reaction disquieting and inappropriate for a married woman. The same question he'd had since they'd first met crossed his mind yet again: _What do you want from my brother?_

Rick eventually got down on business and informed Karyn on the latest. When he told her about the lady X at Fairlane, she became visibly unnerved and agitated.

"Do you think Ben's having an affair?" asked Karyn with uncertainty evident in her shaky voice.

Rick gently squeezed her hand that he held in his. "No, we don't think so. The manager says he hasn't seen your husband at the motel."

"What was she doing there? What does she need fingerprints for?"

"We don't have the answer for that—yet. She seems to be operating independently, so we may be able to rule out the police force." Rick stared into space for a moment. "Do you know if Ben has an outstanding warrant?"

"No! I… I don't know…" She covered her face with both hands and started shaking her head. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore. Can you take me home now? Please?"

"Well…" Rick hesitated looking up at A.J.

"Can I speak with you, Rick?" A.J. spoke for the first time after returning to the office, his voice straining. "In private?"

Rick and A.J. filed out of their office and closed the door behind them.

"Rick, I don't think it's a good idea to leave you alone with Mrs. Hojnacki tonight," started A.J. in a hushed tone, mindful of the woman behind the closed door.

Rick knew where his brother was going and bristled. "Last I checked I'm still older than you. I don't need to be chaperoned by my baby brother," said he derisively.

"It's not you that I'm worried about," said A.J. patiently.

"You better watch it," growled Rick, his voice full of menace.

"I have a bad feeling about this case. Nothing's what it seems to be."

Rick remained silent to keep his temper in check. He knew he'd lose it once he started yelling at his brother.

"I keep coming back to the clues Ben left: a tavern, a motel, some unknown address. He didn't go to these places, but someone else did—that's what he's hinting at, right? But who? According to his wife, he has no kin, or friend, no one close." A.J. nervously licked his lips. "Except Karyn."

Rick could feel he was losing his grip as A.J. started his fingerpointing.

"Maybe we were asking about a wrong Hojnacki at Fair…"

Before A.J. could finish his sentence, Rick struck him. The force of the sucker punch in the face knocked A.J. off his feet literally and figuratively.

White-hot fury twisted Rick's face then it was gone in a fraction of a second, replaced by utter disbelief. Neither he nor his brother could bring himself to articulate what had just transpired between them. They stared at each other for several seconds not knowing what to do, or what to say.

It was Rick who first looked away. He spun around and went back inside the office as if to flee from his brother's silent accusation.

Moments later, Rick reemerged from the office with Karyn. Without making eye contact with A.J., who was still standing in the same spot in the hallway, he announced in a flat voice, "We'll be back tomorrow morning around nine or ten."

Rick strode off down the corridor and punched the down button of the elevator without another word. He never looked back while waiting for the elevator car to arrive.

When he and Karyn got into the elevator, Rick had to turn around. Before the door closed, the siblings' eyes met for a brief moment.

A.J. felt a flash of anger and blurted out, "You're hopeless, Rick."

He didn't mean to say those words, just like Rick hadn't meant to throw a punch.

A.J. helplessly watched the elevator close its door on its occupants, and it felt as though his brother were being spirited away from his life forever.


	8. Chapter 8

A.J. stared at the telephone on his office desk, his hand hovering over the receiver. He bit his lower lip trying to decide. Should he, or shouldn't he? It would take only one call to know one way or the other, but if Rick found out what he was about to do, he'd… _Don't go there_, he told himself, and picked up the receiver. _I hope you know what you're doing_. This time, his little inner voice sounded a lot like Rick's.

A.J. punched in a number and waited for the other party to pick up the phone. After a couple of rings, a familiar voice came on the line. "Hello?"

"Hi, Bruno. This is A.J."

"Oh, hi, A.J." Bruno sounded surprised. He was one of Rick's contacts at a local phone company. "How are you? How's my Ricky boy doing?"

"Rick and I are doing fine, thank you."

"Can I say 'hi' to him real quick?"

"Sorry, he's not here at the moment."

There was a slight pause. Bruno seemed to have sensed something. "This is not a social call, is it?"

"Afraid not." A.J. tried to maintain a cheerful tone. "I was wondering if you could do me a big favor."

"I'm listening."

"I need a list of outgoing calls made from a local phone number for the last four weeks. And if there are recurring calls, I'd like you to find the individuals, the businesses and their addresses associated with those telephone numbers."

A.J. waited with bated breath for Bruno's response.

"Well, it's doable."

A.J. heaved a sigh of relief.

"But it may take some time. How soon do you need it?"

"As soon as possible."

"Give me about an hour then." Bruno didn't sound too happy understandably. It was almost the quitting time on Friday. "What's the phone number?"

A.J. hesitated for a moment—this was the point of no return.

"A.J.?"

A.J. slowly recited Ben and Karyn Hojnacki's home phone number.

**S&S S&S**

"What would you like for dinner, Rick? Italian, French, Chinese, Indian, or simple meat 'n' taters?" Karyn asked Rick.

They had been talking this and that for over an hour sitting on the couch. She somehow ended up snuggling her head against his chest.

"Whatever you choose is fine. I'm not a picky eater like my brother."

"But I want you to choose. Let me thank you for going out of your way to make me feel safe."

"Hey, don't fret over something like that. If you wanna know, Mac 'n' Cheese would be fine when I have great company to dine with."

Karyn languidly sat up straight to gaze into Rick's eyes. She placed her hand over his heart.

"You're such a sweetie." She smiled playfully. "But Mac & Cheese is out of question. All right, I've decided—I'll go get changed and take you to my favorite restaurant."

"Which one is that?"

"That'll be a secret. Now, no peeking or eavesdropping while I put on my dress and make a reservation in my bedroom."

Rick watched Karyn sashay down the hallway and disappear into her bedroom.

Only a short while later, she reappeared in the same clothes she'd been wearing before.

"Rick? I need to ask a favor of you if you don't mind," said she coyly.

"Sure. What is it?" Rick said enthusiastically.

"My dress zipper is stuck. Do you think you can undo it for me? And the light bulb in the closet's gone out. Would you mind changing it? I'll get a new bulb."

"Sure thing." Rick replied eagerly with an open smile.

_**S&S S&S**_

A.J. snatched up the phone receiver at the first ring.

"Hello?" Anxious, he skipped the formality.

"Hi, A.J. It's me."

A.J. was relieved to hear Bruno's voice. "You have it?"

Bruno started with the obvious. There were several calls made to A.J.'s home and office, and a couple to a local dental office. A few more to Ace Appliances. There were more frequent calls to two individuals in Las Vegas, by the names of Darcy and Arlene, and A.J. assumed they were Karyn's old girlfriends.

The next phone number sounded familiar, and A.J. soon recognized it. "Todd's Tavern."

"Yeah, that's right," confirmed Bruno.

"I need the dates and times of those calls."

Of the two calls, one had been made seven days before Ben's disappearance at 11:25 a.m., the other, two days after his vanishing act at 1:38 p.m. Ben couldn't have been able to make either one from home. He had been at work during the first call.

A.J. tried to remember what Karyn had said when Rick had found the matchbook from the bar. Rick had asked her if there was a bar called Todd's Tavern in the neighborhood, and she'd said, _No, I don't think so, but I'm not sure._ An obvious lie.

Graham had said the first batch of new matchbooks had arrived about three weeks ago. The timeline fit. _If I were a betting man, I'd say Karyn brought the matchbook from Todd's Tavern on the day she made the first call to the bar, and later Ben took and hid it_.

On the other end of the phone line, Bruno continued to report his findings. Karyn had called a certain number numerous times, twenty-one times to be exact, during the twenty-eight-day period, sometimes two or three times a day. A.J. did not recognize the number, or the name attached to it: Dirk Christensen. The last call had been made right after Rick and A.J.'s first visit to her apartment.

"Where does he live?" asked A.J.

"Let's see… In the Mission Valley West area."

A.J.'s heart skipped a beat. "Does he live in an apartment?"

"Yes. Apartment number 522."

_I remember there was a room number. It was…552? Or, 522, maybe 255…_ A.J. recalled Rick's phone conversation with Karyn. His suspicion had been confirmed, but with the knowledge came more anxiety and dread instead of relief.

"A.J.? You still there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Thanks, Bruno. I owe you big time. Give me a call when you're ready to collect my debt." A.J. meant every word of it. "And for the time being, will you keep this just between you and me? Please don't tell Rick about this."

"Okay. And you don't owe me anything. This one's on me," said Bruno. "Just look after your brother. Keep him safe, will you?"

"I will. Thanks again, Bruno."

After hanging up the phone, A.J. immediately started dialing Karyn's home phone number, but he put down the receiver before he finished dialing. What should he tell Rick? That he'd been snooping around behind his back? That Karyn was a liar and probably having an affair with a Dirk Christensen rendezvousing at Todd's Tavern and Fairlane Motel though there was only circumstantial evidence? That Ben Hojnacki had somehow found out her affair and left the clues as his insurance for safety?

A.J. almost could see Rick blowing up over these allegations. This case had already driven a wedge between the brothers. A.J. was afraid that, if he made accusations against Karyn without solid proof, the rift between Rick and him might become irreparable. His distaste for Karyn intensified turning into detestation.

"Ahem."

A.J. nearly jumped out of his chair when he heard someone clear her throat. A.J. looked up sharply from his desk and was shocked to find a woman standing at the office door.

She was beautiful, but her beauty was more than skin deep; her calm demeanors exuded an aura of self-confidence, inner tranquility and grace. Her shoulder-length raven tresses accentuated her porcelain-white complexion and pale gray eyes that seemed smoldering. Although he found her captivatingly beautiful, she was nothing like the Hollywood starlet type—a provocative human Barbie doll that would flaunt her sexuality. A.J could imagine discovering the visage of this woman before him in one of those Renaissance paintings hanging on the wall of some European art museum to be studied for hours on end.

"Don't be alarmed, Mr. Simon. I'm here to speak with you regarding your case. I know Karyn Hojnacki hired you and your brother."

She was all business, but her voice was warm and mellifluous.

"How did you get in here? The building's entrance is locked." A.J. rose to his feet.

"Would something like a locked door impede your investigation?" She answered with a hint of a smile as she walked up to his desk.

"What…? Are you an investigator?"

She simply nodded.

"Wait a minute. Was it you that showed up at Fairlane Motel dusting the room for fingerprints in Room 6?"

"Yes," replied she softly. "I was tailing Karyn Hojnacki."

_So, Karyn __is__ having an affair._ "Are you working for Ben?"

"No, I've been trying to locate him for years."

A.J. couldn't make heads or tails of her comment and smiled uncertainly. "Oh… By the way, I'm A.J. Simon, one half of Simon & Simon Investigations." He stuck his hand out as he introduced himself.

She took his hand and shook it firmly. "Mr. Simon. I'm…"

"Please, call me A.J."

She arched her eyebrow. "A.J. as in…?"

"Andrew Jackson." He answered with a grin.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. President. I'm Leo. Leo Klein."

"Leo?" A.J. gave her a look-over. "That's one hell of a misnomer for a lady of exquisite beauty."

Leo rolled her eyes, which could be easily translated as, 'Oh, please.' She took out her wallet and showed her credentials.

"Leonore G. Klein, Senior Investigator of Acme Insurance." He read it aloud. "What's your middle initial stand for?"

"Gabriela." She sounded a bit uncomfortable revealing the information.

"Hey, Gabriela is a nice name," said A.J. "But I like Leonore better—it suits you perfectly. Like Leonore in _Fidelio_, huh? The faithful wife?"

Leo's eyes slightly widened, and she regarded A.J. with renewed interest. "Yes, as a matter of fact. My grandfather was from Germany, and a huge Beethoven admirer."

"You happen to have a sister named Elise?"

Leo couldn't help smiling back at A.J.'s winsome smile and his geeky sense of humor.

"Now that we made each other's acquaintance, let's get back to our business, shall we? Am I correct to assume you're investigating a possible case of insurance fraud here?" asked A.J.

"Yes. On one Brian Patterson." Leo's tone returned to its previous no-nonsense, just-the-facts-ma'am mode.

"Brian Patterson? Who's that?"

"You and your brother know him as Ben Hojnacki."

The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks.

"What? Are you trying to tell us Ben Hojnacki's real name is Brian Patterson?"

Leo nodded. "Three years ago, Acme Insurance received a life insurance benefits claim reporting Patterson's kayaking accident off the coast of Vancouver B.C. Though his remains were never recovered, he was declared dead."

"No wonder Ben Hojnacki's past is so sketchy." A.J. mumbled to himself. "Are you sure Brian Patterson and Ben Hojnacki are one and the same?"

Leo nodded affirmative again. "There were partial fingerprints left on the inside of the kayak he was in, as well as on the furniture in the hotel room he stayed at in B.C. I collected some fingerprint samples from Ben Hojnacki's apartment—perfect match."

"Did your company pay the life insurance benefits in full?"

Leo sighed. "Yes. We conducted our investigation as best as we could, but it was rather difficult because the alleged accident took place in Canada. There were some unanswered questions, but we paid the beneficiary in full—reluctantly. He had a double indemnity clause, you know."

_A lump sum payment for the benefits… When I lost my former husband…_ A.J. recalled snippets of the conversation he had heard during the initial interview with Karyn Hojnacki.

"Who was the beneficiary?" A.J.'s heartbeat picked up its pace as he asked the question.

"His wife, Mrs. Karyn Patterson, Karyn with a Y."

"Damn…"

The color drained from his face as he cursed softly. He grabbed the phone receiver and dialed Karyn's home phone number. The phone started to ring on the other end. Once, twice… After five unanswered rings, A.J. slammed the receiver down. Although he tried to stay calm, panic was settling in.

Before Leo could react, A.J. gripped her hand and dashed to the door.

"Hurry! We gotta go!"

"What? Where…?"

"To Mrs. Hojnack's, or whatever her name is. I'll explain on the way."

_**S&S S&S**_

Rick was unscrewing the light bulb in the master bedroom's closet when the phone started to ring. Once, twice…

"Karyn? You want me to get the phone for you?"

There was no response from Karyn. Frowning, Rick retraced his way back to the living room, but there was no one there. The phone had stopped ringing.

"Karyn?"

As he called her name again, Rick heard a noise behind him. When he spun around, his heart leaped to his throat seeing Karyn right behind him, but he hardly recognized her face. Her red lips were pressed hard into a thin line in a grimace. What disturbed him most though was the object she held in her right hand: a tire iron.

"Karyn?"


	9. Chapter 9

A.J. sped through a residential zone breaking just about every traffic rule, and he didn't care. He almost wished he'd be stopped by a police offer so that he'd be able to ask him to send help to Karyn's apartment.

"I knew she was trouble right from the start, but I didn't try hard enough to make my brother see it." He told Leo, his voice cracking with anguish. "The way she hit on him… I could tell she was up to no good, but I couldn't see for what and why until now."

"You think your brother's in danger?"

"Yes." A.J. kept his eyes on the road. "I'm afraid Karyn is planning another insurance fraud, and this time she and Dirk, her lover, are conspiring to kill Ben…Brian, and my brother's right in the middle of it. The best-case scenario is that she's only using Rick as her alibi while Dirk is committing a murder."

A.J. broke off, struggling to get the next words out.

"But I can't shake this feeling they are trying to kill him and Brian and claim Brian walked in on Karyn and Rick, flew into a jealous rage and both ended up dead in the struggle."

All he could do was to cling to the hope that it was not too late to save Rick.

_**S&S S&S**_

Karyn stared at Rick's prone body on the living room floor and watched his bright red blood spreading rapidly on the carpet. She was still breathing hard, her hand still gripping the tire iron covered with minute specks of blood.

_What's taking him so long?_

As if someone read her mind, the door of her apartment opened.

"Where have you been? You were supposed to be here…" The rest of the words died on her lips when she saw who had walked in. She paled visibly.

"What's the matter, Karyn? You look like you're seeing a ghost."

Karyn's grip on the tire iron became tighter at the sight of her husband whom she had come to loathe.

Ben Hojnacki, a.k.a. Brian Patterson glanced at the crumpled figure at Karyn's feet with cool indifference. "Thanks for making my work easier, Karyn." He sneered at her.

"What did you do to Dirk? Where is he?" She hissed.

"Oh, he's still alive—for now. He's resting uncomfortably in the trunk of his own car, waiting to join you and this PI in the final act." He jeered. "I've told you a thousand times—you're not intelligent enough to outwit me. Didn't you know I could really disappear if I wanted to but let you keep a tab on me on purpose?"

As he took a step forward, she raised the tire iron to ward him off. Her action did not have the effect she had desired and seemed to only amuse him.

"Uh-uh-uh!" Brian's hand went behind his back and pulled out a handgun from his waistband. The tire iron slipped out of Karyn's hand and dropped on the floor.

"You know, your lover-boy is dumber than a rock. He bought this Saturday night special believing the police would never be able to trace it back to him. But he indiscriminately contacted so many people asking so damn many questions, cops will have no problem connecting him with the gun. And he's such a big lug I could spot him a mile away when he was supposed to be tailing me. What a klutz!"

"You're not going to get away with this." Karyn glowered at her husband.

"That so?" chuckled Brian. "You're overestimating your brainpower and the police investigators'. No, I don't think I'll have any problem getting away with murder with a bagful of money. And I have you to thank for this perfect opportunity."

Brian's smile turned Karyn's blood cold.

_**S&S S&S**_

Leo gazed into A.J.'s eyes but could not fathom the state of his mind.

"There is another possibility you left out." She chose her words cautiously. "Karyn may have been trying to seduce and recruit your brother to kill her husband…"

A.J.'s eyes hardened. "I'll just ignore your remark and take no offence because you don't know Rick in person," said he struggling to keep his voice steady and even. "He's the first one to admit he's far from perfect. He misspeaks, misbehaves and breaks rules all the time. But you have to believe me when I tell you that he would never, NEVER take someone else's life for monetary gains."

"Or for sexual favors?" Leo asked bluntly and unabashedly.

"Or for sexual favors," affirmed A.J. "Never!"

Leo quietly studied the fellow investigator's face for several moments.

"You and your brother may look different on the outside, but you two sound like you share a lot in common on the inside."

Her soothing, melodious voice was salve to his jangled nerves. He offered her a strained smile to let her know he harbored no hard feelings. "I'm not sure if I should be glad or offended to hear that."

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

_**S&S S&S**_

Rick's eyes flew open as the ringing in his ears became unbearable. He found himself lying face down on the shaggy carpet in Karyn's living room. Over the ringing in the ears, he could hear her angry voice speaking with a man who also sounded hostile though he could not make out every word.

He wondered why he was hugging the floor and tried to recall what had happened. The last thing he could remember was the image of the tire iron in Karyn's hand. He had no recollection of getting hit, but he drew a conclusion that that must have happened considering the pain and the state he was in. In addition to the ringing in the ears, he felt lightheaded, and the left shin was on fire. He was afraid it was broken.

There was a tire iron several inches away from his face. The business end of it had dark red stains—his blood, no doubt.

The mess he was in looked pretty bad, to put it mildly. While assessing the whole situation, he kept his breathing slow and steady to stay calm and to play possum. His eyes were now only two tiny slits. In order to take his mind off the injuries, Rick tried to zero in on the heated conversation overhead.

_**S&S S&S**_

A.J. braked so hard to stop his Camaro he almost gave Leo a whiplash. He jumped over the car door not bothering to open it and started running the second his feet hit the ground. He quickly spotted Karyn's Skylark in her designated parking space and was encouraged by the fact. Maybe she was still inside—with Rick. He stood in front of her apartment building, which was clearly marked by the range of unit numbers for easy identification. Her apartment was on the fourth floor, a corner unit. When he saw it was brightly lit, he tried to convince himself that it was a further encouraging sign.

A.J. gripped the downspout extension that ran alongside of the building from the rooftop to the ground to steady himself and hopped on the top of the patio railing of the ground floor corner unit.

"A.J.," called Leo from behind. "What do you want me to do?"

He stood on the railing and reached above and grasped a couple of iron bars of the patio railing of the unit above with both hands. "Do you have a gun and a permit to carry it?"

"Yes."

"Go to the fourth floor. Karyn's room is…"

"465, yes, I know."

"Pull the fire alarm. Wait and see if anyone comes out of her apartment," said A.J. as he pulled himself up from the ground floor level to the next.

He stood on the edge of the second floor patio, and only then did he look back at Leo. "Hurry!" He pleaded with urgency.

Leo started running.

A.J. tried to block the mental images of Rick with various types and degrees of injuries or worse and willed himself to focus on the physical activity he was engaged in, but it was so damn hard. His mind kept returning to the arguments he'd had with Rick and snide remarks he'd made about him last few days. _Please, God. Don't let my last words to my brother be, "You're hopeless, Rick."_ A.J., now on the third level, took hold of the railing above—the one for Karyn's unit. _Please, please give Rick another chance—give __me__ another chance to be with him, and I will never, ever complain about his boat in my yard!_

A.J. climbed up on the railing and landed on the patio like a cat burglar on the prowl. The drapes were half drawn offering a partial view of the living room through the sliding door.

The first thing A.J. saw was Karyn's profile. She was standing in the living room facing the hallway that led to the bedrooms and the bathroom. Her face contorted in fury, she was yelling at someone, who was presumably standing in the hallway. Was it Rick she was yelling at?

Then he saw him, Rick's motionless figure sprawled on the floor. He was hatless, his thinning pate exposed, his face turned away from A.J. And there was blood—so much blood on the carpet under and around his head and a metal object, a tire iron.

With a sharp, audible intake of breath, A.J.'s breathing became ragged, and his knees threatened to buckle at the horrific sight. He gripped the back of one of the wrought-iron patio chairs on the balcony for support. _Please let him live, and I'll never make fun of his receding hairline ever again no matter how much hair he loses._ A.J. continued his attempt to strike a bargain, albeit an absurd one, with the Creator.

As he tightened the grip on the chair, it suddenly dawned on him that he was holding a free admission ticket to Karyn's House of Horrors in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind, let his instinct take over and picked up the chair. As he swung it sideways to gain momentum, the fire alarm went off as though it were perfectly choreographed. The glass of the sliding door exploded upon impact.

A double dose of cacophony jolted Rick, but he managed to remain still. He welcomed the racket for he knew who was making a grand entrance from the patio. He just knew with certainty, without a doubt. He held his breath and waited.

Another unexpected turn of events petrified Karyn. The scheme she had been plotting for so long was falling apart as quickly as a sand castle on the beach at high tide. She watched in horror a patio chair come flying through the raining shards of glass and land on the floor within a few feet from her with a dull thud.

At the sound of the fire alarm, Brian Patterson took a few steps forward and was now in the living room just in time to witness the implosion of the sliding door. Before the patio chair that had caused the breakage hit the floor, a phantom figure came charging in through the shower of glass slivers. Brian raised his right arm and aimed his gun point-blank at the intruder.

With so much commotion all around, Rick knew no one was paying close attention to him. His eyes were now wide open. He saw Brian's shoes take a few steps toward him and make a ninety-degree turn. With one seamless motion, Rick picked up the tire iron, pushed up his upper body with one arm and whacked Brian behind the knees with all his might as he squeezed the trigger of his gun.

A.J. was barely aware of the handgun going off though the blast was deafening, or of the bullet whizzing past him, hitting the wall behind him near the ceiling. As Brian fell to his knees, his arms flailing, A.J. tackled him at full speed. A.J.'s shoulder hit Brian's midsection squarely. Brian let out an audible ooomph, and he went down on his back hard, and so did his right hand. The gun flew out of his hand, skidded clickety-clack on the hallway hardwood floor. A.J. pounced and straddled on Brian's torso, grabbed the shirtfront in his left hand and started pummeling the man underneath him.

Karyn could have gone after the gun in the hallway, but the thought had never entered her mind. All she wanted was to flee the scene of the crime, to leave the whole fiasco behind. As A.J. Simon began attacking her husband, she slowly took a backward step, then another, then another… When she reached the foyer by the kitchen, she did a quick one-eighty and unlocked the door with her trembling hand. She was stunned to find a dark-haired woman standing in front of her when she opened the door.

The woman outside held a Smith & Wesson semi-automatic trained on Karyn's head. "Back inside." The woman ordered Karyn. As they entered the foyer, the dark-haired woman called out, "A.J.! Are you all right?"

A.J. kept on pounding Brian although he had stopped struggling and was now apparently unconscious.

"A.J." Rick called his brother, but he was oblivious. "A.J.!" Rick called again, louder now.

A.J. cocked his elbow back once more, but this time, he froze in the mid-motion. When A.J. turned his face to him, Rick thought he saw a feral glint in his brother's eyes, but after a couple of blinks, it was gone. "Rick…"

"That's enough, A.J. The guy's out cold."

A.J. looked down at his handiwork on Brian's face, which was now grotesquely disfigured after the severe beating. Before he dropped his fist, he realized his knuckles were raw, swollen and covered with blood. He suspected some of it might be his. _This is gonna hurt once the effect of adrenaline wears off_, thought he with cool detachment.

"You okay?" asked Rick.

"Yeah," answered A.J. "I'm afraid to ask you the same question though."

"I'll live," said Rick flopping down on his back with a grunt.

"A.J.?" Leo called again as she guided Karyn back into the living room at gunpoint.

"I'm fine, Leo," replied A.J. "Could you keep an eye on Mrs…on _her_ while I call the police and an ambulance?" He checked on his brother to assess the injuries. The gash on the forehead had bled profusely, but it seemed surprisingly superficial. Rick told him that his left leg might be broken. A.J. jumped to his feet to make a 911 call.

A.J.'s knuckles began to throb with a vengeance before he terminated the emergency call. He went to the kitchen, helped himself with some ice cubes in the freezer and wrapped them in a kitchen towel. He then applied the towel on his right hand to help bring down the swelling. He took another towel and soaked it in cold water. He didn't want to keep looking at Rick's bloody face.

"A.J.?" Rick called his brother's name as he lay on his back.

"What's wrong?" A.J. hurried back to the living room and quickly knelt by his brother's side, his heart pounding.

"Nothing's wrong, but do me a favor, will ya?"

"What?"

"Next time I try to twist your arm to take a case of squabbling spouses…" Rick broke off wincing with pain.

"Yeah?"

"Hit me upside the head with a two-by-four and get it over with once and for all."

"Gladly," replied A.J. as his serious countenance gave way to a grin.

"Thank you."

"All right, Rick, that's enough. Stop talking and lie still. You should take it easy until the ambulance gets here. Okay?"

"Good idea," agreed Rick and promptly passed out.


	10. Chapter 10

Several hours later, Rick was sitting on the examination table at the ER near Karyn's apartment waiting to be discharged. The gash on the forehead had been cleansed and sutured. The left tibia had been broken in two places, but they were clean breaks and had required only a cast, no operation.

He had given a concise statement to the police, but the ER doctor and the nurses had shooed them away during the examination and the diagnostic tests. Consequently, A.J. and the insurance lady with a funny name had been fielding most of the questioning by the police leaving Rick out of the loop.

As he was disconnectedly wondering how much longer he'd have to wait, where his brother was and what had happened to the Hojnackis/Pattersons, a short, plump nurse walked in with some paperwork.

"Hi, my name is Anna." She made an unnecessary introduction—she was wearing a name badge on her smock. To Rick's amusement, her smock had some Looney Tunes cartoon characters on it. "I'm a registered nurse and will give you the discharge instructions."

Noticing that the patient, a Richard Simon, was eyeing the cartoon characters with an ambivalent smile, the nurse explained, "Oh, this. I've just discharged a little boy. Besides, I usually work in the pediatrics. We're kind of shorthanded here tonight."

Rick was glad that A.J. was not in the same room to seize this perfect opportunity to make yet another smart-ass remark on the older brother's arrested development.

After she routinely informed him on his medications, the signs and symptoms to watch out for and the discharge paper was signed and dated, Anna told Rick, "All right, you're almost good to go, but before you leave the hospital, a physical therapist will show you how to use the crutches."

"Nah, there's no need. This is not my fir…" Rick broke off as he lost the train of thoughts seeing a pretty young thing enter the room.

"I'm so sorry, Anna. I know I'm late but the things got really hectic around here!"

The petite young woman, a PT, was a burst of energy. The way she spoke—at sixty miles per hour—and flitted about made Rick think of a hummingbird, a pretty one with red hair that bordered on gold.

"So, are we ready for our session?" The golden hummer chirped, shifting her attention to Rick.

"I was born ready, darlin'," replied Rick with a drawl. What he was ready for, he did not say.

_**S&S S&S**_

A.J. and Leo were on their way back to the examination room to pick up Rick when they saw him hobbling up and down the hallway on crutches with a pretty young woman wearing a hospital garb in tow. She sounded more like a cheerleader than a medical staff member as she cheered him on. They walked back to the end of the hallway and stopped. Rick sat on an empty gurney, and the woman wrote something on his cast.

"Bye, Rick! Keep your weight off that leg!" She shouted as she trotted down the hospital corridor past A.J. and Leo.

"It's about time you showed up!" Rick griped to A.J. when he and Leo, pushing a wheelchair, walked up to the gurney he was sitting on.

"It looked like you were having the time of your life," rebutted A.J. pointedly looking at the phone number the young woman had scribbled on Rick's cast.

"Hey, I had to occupy myself—I was getting bored to death."

"Funny you worded it that way," said A.J., but there was no trace of humor in his voice or on his face. "That'd be your second brush with death tonight."

"Come on, A.J. Don't be so melodramatic. The doc said a head wound tends to bleed a lot, even a superficial one like mine. And I got no skull fracture, or brain hemorrhage. All the tests came back negative."

"Thank your lucky stars for that. The police sergeant who'd taken the statement from Karyn Hojnacki told me that you had cheated a coup de grace only because she had broken your leg first."

"What?" Rick stared at his brother and Leo uncomprehendingly.

"According to her sworn statement, as you turned around and came face to face with her, she hit your left leg with a tire iron like this." A.J. tapped lightly on the cast to show the angle of the blow. "She then raised the weapon to deliver a finishing blow on the top of your head, but, rather than pitch forward like she'd thought you would, you tipped to your left as your leg gave way. So, all you got was a glancing blow instead of a fatal crushing one she'd intended."

As the sobering account of the earlier event sank in, Rick swallowed hard, realizing how close he had come to an untimely demise. A.J. and Leo looked on quietly to let him absorb the news.

After several moments, Rick finally spoke haltingly, "I… She said that?"

It pained A.J. to break the news, but the truth would come out sooner or later. "Yes. Karyn and Brian are both singing like a canary to get a better bargaining position before the other does."

He looked up at his brother and blurted out. "God! I'm an idiot!"

"Now, Rick…"

"No, A.J. It needs to be said. You warned me about Karyn time and again right from the get-go, but I didn't listen…"

"Since when have you started listening to anyone's advice? You're not an idiot, Rick, just pig-headed, that's all."

"Same old difference," mumbled Rick. Then he looked Leo in the eye. "And…and I don't know what to say, or how to thank you…" Rick shifted his gaze back to A.J. "… how to thank both of you…"

"Don't thank me." A.J. interrupted his brother. "If Leo hadn't shown up at our office with the crucial information, I would never have figured out what was going on tonight."

"But you did put all the pieces of the puzzle together at the end. All I had was some background information," said Leo to A.J.

"Hey!" Rick demanded the other two's attention as they continued trying to credit the other for the successful rescue operation. "Will you two stop being so damn modest and decent and let me wallow in shame and self-disgust?"

_That sounds like Rick's old self_, thought A.J. grinning. _I guess he'll be all right after all_. "You can do all the wallowing you want on our way back home. Come on. Let's get out of here."

"Wait. Let me get you a cup of coffee or something at the cafeteria," said Rick getting off the gurney. He refused to sit in the wheelchair Leo offered.

"We can get coffee from the vending machine," suggested A.J.

"I'm kinda hungry. I haven't had anything since lunch. Come on—let me buy you guys a cup of coffee or whatever you like. You can fill me in on the case while I eat."

A.J. stared at Rick in part disbelief, part admiration. His older brother still possessed many child-like traits. One of them was short attention span; the flip side of it was remarkable resilience.

"In that case, I'll have to buy you dinner," said A.J. shaking his head.

"There's no way I'll let you do that after what you've done for me tonight."

"The cashier won't honor your hand-written I.O.U., Rick."

"Huh?"

"I signed the list of your valuables when you were admitted to the ER. You have exactly two dollars and fifty-six cents in your wallet. Don't you ever check to see how much money you have on your person when you leave home?"

Rick raised his eyebrow and shrugged. "Don't have to. Why do you think I let you tag along all the time?"

A.J. sighed as his brother chuckled.

"Leo, would you care to join me and my mooching brother for a non-alcoholic nightcap? If you're not up to it, I'll hail a cab for you."

"Oh, I'd love to. I heard some nurse raving about the cafeteria's peach cobbler: a dessert to die for." Leo, too, joined the comedy act, making Rick groan.

_**S&S S&S**_

Rick leaned on the crutches and limped along right behind A.J., who was carrying a tray laden with food and drinks to their table. The cafeteria was still half full with the night shift staff and the visitors for the in-patients.

Once Rick started digging into his food, A.J. asked him, "All right. How much do you know about this case?"

"Ben's real name's Brian Patterson, and Karyn knew it all along. She was having an affair with a guy named Dirk and planning to kill Brian. Brian found out about them and tried to kill them claiming self-defense. Since Leo here is an investigator for a major insurance company, I suppose they are, or were involved in insurance fraud. How am I doing?" said Rick between bites.

"Pretty good." A.J. nodded approvingly.

"There are some loose ends though. Like, how did Brian find out Karyn was cheating on him, things like that, you know."

"Before we get to that, I'll let Leo give you some background information."

Leo smiled and put down her cup of coffee on the tray.

"Brian Patterson and Karyn Engelmann met and got married in Bellingham, Washington about six years ago. That was his first marriage, her third. Because of the city's geographic proximity to the Canadian border, they often vacationed in Vancouver B.C. and knew the area well.

"According to Brian's confession, a year or two into the marriage, Karyn found a complete set of IDs for Benjamin Hojnacki hidden among his personal items and confronted him. He told her they'd belonged to a deceased friend of his."

"Bean…" Rick whispered. "Karyn said Ben, I mean, Brian called him Bean."

A certain look passed between Leo and A.J.

"We'll come back to that later," said A.J.

Leo nodded and continued, "Brian swears it was Karyn who hatched a plan to defraud our company with a fake accident to collect the life insurance benefits after finding Ben's IDs. But it was he who masterminded the whole thing.

"Before staging the kayaking accident, Brian took scuba lessons to be certified under his current name. Of course, at that time, we knew him only as Brian Patterson, so we didn't catch that."

"He put on his scuba gear, tipped over the kayak on purpose and swam underwater all the way back to the shore," Rick guessed easily.

Leo nodded. "He had scouted the area and picked a deserted beach only the local residents knew about. Just before faking the accident, he'd buried a plastic bag filled with a change of clothes, shoes, and other items needed for traveling in a hidden area of the beach behind a boulder."

"And that's when he became Ben Hojnacki," muttered Rick to himself.

"Yes. I've had doubts about the accident and kept tabs on Karyn over the years but I lost track of her for a while after she changed her last name to Hojnacki. By the time I tracked her down here in San Diego, Brian had disappeared, so I kept an eye on her hoping she'd lead me to him. I tailed her to Fairlane Motel twice, but it wasn't Brian she was seeing."

"Karyn started having an affair with Dirk Christensen soon after she and Brian moved here." A.J. took over the narrative. "Brian's a smart guy and picked up some signs like finding some items that didn't belong to either of them, Karyn's frequent night-outs… And she was careless and overconfident because she had a car, and he didn't. She thought he'd never be able to find out where she was going or whom she was seeing.

"Remember she told us he's a great mechanic? It so happens that he has worked as a mechanic as well as a repo man in the past and can pop open any car door in thirty seconds. He admitted he'd borrowed his neighbors' cars without permission to tail her several times."

"But they had to stay in a bad marriage because of the insurance money." Rick conjectured. "The money was legally hers, and Brian had no access to it. Karyn couldn't just pick up and leave 'cause he could implicate her in fraud."

"That's right," confirmed A.J. "Again, this is what Brian claims, but Karyn brought up a plan to stage another accident. Sure, having some extra money's nice, but he knew her ulterior motive was to really kill him off and make it look like an accident. He knew she was up to something and told her about his own scheme to disappear for a while and persuaded her to hire a private investigator."

"He did?"

"He told Karyn that it'd make her look like a concerned wife and might deflect the police investigators' suspicion. What he wanted though was to have someone find the clues of her infidelity to make sure that she wouldn't get away with murder and the blood money if something happened to him."

"Yeah, sure. But that's not all, is it?" asked Rick stony-faced staring at his brother unflinchingly.

"No." It was A.J. who looked away to avoid eye contact. "They both wanted another victim to make their versions of accident more plausible. In either way, you were to be killed in a non-existent love triangle along with Brian, or Dirk."

"Hey, don't feel too bad to tell me what I already know, A.J.," said Rick with a half smile. "Sure, I'm still smarting from…well, you know, but I'll be okay."

But A.J. knew his brother was more than just smarting. He saw certain emotions flicker past Rick's face. How would one feel when he realized he had fallen for a woman like Karyn?

Once he had embraced the truth, Rick was able to examine the case objectively. He was certain that Karyn had called Dirk right after he and A.J. had left for Ace Appliances to let him know where they were going; that Dirk had attacked him and stole the note with his own address from him in Todd's Tavern's parking lot; that Karyn and Dirk had staged a break-in to lure him to her apartment to get rid of him like a bag of garbage before he figured out what they were up to; and that she had handpicked him as her prey because A.J. was too smart and too popular among women to fall for her. _Hindsight is always 20/20_, thought he with a touch of bitterness and self-mockery.

"Did the police catch Dirk?" asked Rick as an afterthought.

"Yes. They found him alive in the trunk of his car where Brian had left him," replied A.J. "You know, this has been a strange case right from the start, but there was another bizarre twist no one could expect."

"Great. My head is about to burst at the newly-sewn stitches with so much information." Rick groaned.

"The SDPD contacted the authorities in New York to get more background data on Brian and Ben and were able to track down one of the caseworkers who'd been assigned to them when they were still minors. He's retired now of course, but he's still in his sixties, and has a mind like a steel trap.

"He says Ben and Brian were tighter than some blood brothers and looked vaguely alike. One of the things the caseworker remembers clearly is they were so rangy they were often called beanpole. They didn't mind that and after a while, they started to call each other Bean and Pole. They thought it was kind of clever because Ben is obviously of Polish heritage."

"Hey, hang on. Brian said his orphan brother was Bean, didn't he?"

"That's what I thought. So, I got the contact information from the police and spoke with the caseworker in person. He confirmed Brian's nickname was Bean, Ben's was Pole. He also told me Brian has sandy hair and blue eyes."

"And Ben has brown hair and hazel eyes? Like Karyn's husband?" asked Rick.

A.J. nodded. "The SDPD or Leo's insurance company will have to obtain a subpoena for the medical and dental record release in order to be absolutely sure, but we're convinced that the man Karyn's married to is Ben Hojnacki."

Rick's mind was getting numb. He was vaguely aware of the signs of an oncoming headache.

"Our guy, Ben or Brian, freely admits he has used both identities back and forth over the years. It's not that he has Dissociative Identity Disorder. He's as sane as you and I. Maybe it was his way to avoid some legal scrapes, or to keep Brian's memory alive after he died. According to the caseworker, Ben is a couple years younger than Brian and worshipped him growing up. It was only the luck of the draw—when he first met Karyn, he was assuming Brian's identity."

"And it certainly is our luck." Leo rejoined the conversation. "I'm sorry that you had to go through this ordeal, but because of you and your brother, I'll be able to finish the final chapter of this case with an added bonus."

Too tired to think, Rick blankly stared at Leo.

"I'm sure our company will be able to legally reclaim the remainder of the insurance payment paid to Karyn, but if we could prove the man who's in custody now is truly Ben Hojnacki, not Brian Patterson, the proceedings to seize the funds would be so much easier and faster without too much legal wrangling…"

"Karyn will lose control over the insurance money right away because she wasn't legally married to anyone at the time of the accident, definitely not to the policy holder because he'd been dead for years by then." A faint smile played on Rick's lips.

Leo returned his smile. "Ben is intelligent, and he turned out to be a shrewd investor. Our company may be able to recover up to ninety-five percent of the total amount paid to Karyn."

"Ain't that sweet?" Rick's smile turned into a grin. "This is what I call poetic justice at its best." Rick hoisted his cup of coffee like a glass of champagne and knocked it back to swallow a pain pill.

_**S&S S&S**_

It was well past 1:30 when Rick, A.J. and Leo left the hospital cafeteria. They were bone-weary and ready to hit the sack.

A.J. had accompanied Rick in the ambulance to the hospital, and Leo had followed them in the Camaro. A.J. volunteered to fetch his car and asked Leo where she'd parked it.

Rick watched his brother trot down the hallway and disappear into the night as he limped toward the hospital entrance with Leo by his side.

"So, you going out with him for a drink or something tonight?"

Rick asked without any preamble, catching Leo off guard.

"What? Who?" Blinking rapidly, she answered with a question.

"Did A.J. ask you out?" His tone clearly said, '_you can't figure this one out and still call yourself an investigator?'_

Bemused, she looked him in the eye. "Mr. Simon…"

"Rick."

"All right. Rick. Your brother and I met only a few hours ago and discussed our cases briefly, but we spent most of the time we've known each other trying to save your life. We're just two investigators working together, nothing more."

"On your part, maybe. But believe me, he's definitely taken with you. You're his type, you know, real classy."

"I'm flying back home Sunday—that's tomorrow."

"You kids still have a whole day till then to get to know each other."

"Rick…"

"If you try hard enough to look past his quirks and annoying habits, you might be able to find something redeemable in him."

A.J. was fond of saying that about Rick.

"I'm married, Rick."

That stopped him in his tracks. His eyes fell on her bare ring finger, which was not lost on Leo.

"I don't wear my wedding ring when I'm on a case. I've already lost two rings while working on the past assignments."

"You're married, huh?"

Leo nodded.

"Happily married?" Rick was honest and sincere, but tactful, he was not.

"Very much so."

"Good for you." Rick paused for a moment. "Does A.J. know?"

"No. The subject hasn't come up; as I said, we had more important things to attend to."

Rick nodded. "If that's the case, when you break it to him, will you let him down easy?"

"Rick. Don't you think you're jumping the gun? But even if you're right about your brother, he is a decent and intelligent man. I'm sure he can handle it."

"Yeah, he's smart, but he can't handle rejections very well. He mopes around, getting on everyone's nerves."

"I suppose that's because he doesn't get turned down by women very often. I noticed some nurses here couldn't take their eyes off him." Leo smiled remembering.

Rick thought it was ironic that Leo hadn't noticed A.J. couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Actually, he gets snubbed more often than you might think." _He often blames yours truly for the snubs, but that's another story_. "But not as often as I do." Rick grinned as if to say _oh, shucks_.

"But you can handle it? Because you're a big brother?" asked Leo teasingly.

"Nah. Just thick-skinned."

Her head slightly tilted, she regarded him thoughtfully.

"You and your brother are what my parents call _mensch_," said Leo with a gentle smile.

"I hope it's not what I think it means." Rick smiled back, joking. "Or, does that mean we're okay?"

"Yes, more than that, and honorable." Her smile seemed to light up the drab interior of the hospital. "As I said to A.J., despite the outward and obvious differences, you two are very much alike deep down."

"Good to hear that, but knowing my brother, I bet he didn't appreciate it too much when you told him that though."

"You know him very well." Leo confirmed Rick's suspicion diplomatically.

"That little bugger!"

The timing and delivery of his feigned outburst was just too perfect, and she could not help but laugh out loud in the quiet hospital hallway.


	11. Chapter 11

A.J. drove Leonore to the airport Sunday morning as planned, but he had been awfully quiet since early Saturday morning after he had dropped her off at her hotel. Rick pretended not to notice the change in his brother's behavior and let him lick his wounds in private. Leo's repeated assurance that they would receive some type of compensation from Acme Insurance for they service didn't cheer up A.J., and Rick didn't feel like celebrating either.

Between Rick's broken bone and A.J.'s broken heart, the house was unusually quiet, so when the phone started ringing that evening, it startled them.

"Hello?" A.J. muttered into the mouthpiece. As soon as he heard the voice on the other end of the phone, he became more animated. "Rebecca?"

Rick's ears perked up at the sound of the familiar name.

A.J. saw his brother looking at him curiously. "Excuse me, Rebecca. Can I put you on hold for a moment? I'd like to take this call elsewhere." He listened to Rebecca for a second or two. "Yes, he's here, hanging on every word I speak."

A.J. grinned as Rick's look of curiosity turned into that of disappointment. "Thanks, I'll be back in a jiffy." With that, he punched the hold button, placed the phone receiver back on the cradle and bounded up the stairs to take the call in his bedroom.

Deprived of one form of entertainment, Rick flicked on the TV set to pass the time; however, he could not concentrate on the plot of an old black-and-white movie because he still had half a mind on the telephone conversation that was taking place upstairs.

A.J. came downstairs fifteen, twenty minutes later. He tried to keep a poker face, but he had an extra spring in his step.

"So, how's Rebecca?" asked Rick casually, his eyes still on the TV screen.

"What's it to you?"

"Boy, aren't you touchy tonight."

"Can you blame me? She says you lied to her the other night that I was in the process of joining an exclusive club, and that your pranks were a part of the initiation—that I would understand if she left with you."

"It worked, didn't it?" Rick grinned, unrepentant. "So, you're gonna have a do-over?"

"Not exactly." A.J. teased his brother withholding the information.

"She wants to go out with me."

"Not in a million years."

"She wants to steal my famous Chili a la Rick recipe."

"No, Rick…"

"Oh, wait, wait! I got it! She wants to move in here so she'll be able to nurse me back to health and wait on me hand and foot."

As usual, Rick's nonsensical prattle broke down his brother's resistance, and, in spite of himself, A.J. started giggling. "In your dreams! She invited me for dinner tomorrow night—at her place, just the two of us, alone. Is that clear enough for you?"

"There's no accounting for taste, I guess." Rick pouted.

"Thank goodness, Rebecca has excellent taste in men." A.J. laughed. "Between my work and dinner date, you'll be alone most of tomorrow. You think you can handle that?"

"I'd say good riddance!"

The phone call from Rebecca was the catalyst the brothers needed to lift their spirits. The house was once again filled with their chatters as they kept taking digs at each other through supper and well into the night.

_**S&S S&S**_

A.J. returned from work early before 5:00 p.m. the following day. Rick figured it wasn't a sign of compassion for the injured sibling because A.J. announced he was going to take another shower within five minutes of coming home.

"You have good two hours before your dinner date. Some women need a lot less time to get ready for a date night," said Rick incredulously.

"I've got a lot to do: pick out just the right outfit for the occasion, get some flowers and a bottle of wine…"

"Now I remember why I don't date high-maintenance women." Rick mumbled.

"The harder you work, the sweeter the reward. Think about it, Rick," said A.J. smugly. "But then again, those high-maintenance women you speak of won't touch you with a ten-foot pole in the first place."

When A.J. disappeared into the bathroom upstairs, Rick got off the couch to take his pain medication. Then he listened. When he heard his brother turning on the shower, he slipped out of the house with Marlowe trailing behind. The rain that had lingered on most of the day was just letting up.

_**S&S S&S**_

Rick carefully opened the kitchen door and took a peek inside. A.J. was nowhere in sight. As he walked into the kitchen, Rick noted that the sound of shower had been replaced by his brother's voice. He assumed A.J. was speaking with Rebecca in his bedroom. Rick washed his hands in the kitchen sink and opened the fridge door looking for a can of beer. Only then did he remember A.J. had removed all alcoholic beverages, including his stash of Don Diablo, from the house yesterday morning as a precaution so that he wouldn't mix booze and his meds. Wishing wistfully for a nice, cold one, Rick settled for a glass of lemonade.

A.J. came downstairs shortly after six, all spiffed up with every hair coiffed in its place. He found Rick on the couch staring at the blank TV screen with his feet up on the coffee table. It seemed he hadn't moved at all, but he must have—he was having a glass of lemonade, which sat directly on the table without a coaster.

"Hey, Rick?"

"Hmm…?"

"I'm leaving in a few minutes."

"Okay."

"Did you take your meds?"

"Uh-huh."

That explained Rick's slow response and slurred speech.

"What're you having for supper?"

"Dunno. Maybe I'll order a pizza or somethin'…"

"No, you should eat better than that. Tell you what—I'll put some leftover roast chicken and stuffing in the oven to warm it up. How's that sound?"

"Purty good."

"Be sure to eat some vegetables and fruit too. Okay?"

"Veggies and fruit… Yuck."

A.J. couldn't help smiling at that. Rick was so out of it, his expression of disgust sounded like a sigh or a yawn. A.J. turned on the oven and placed the chicken and stuffing covered with aluminum foil on the middle rack.

"I'll be home really late tonight, so don't stay up for me. All right?"

"'K…" Rick finally looked up at A.J. quizzically. "Where ya goin'?"

A.J. shook his head smiling. "Just out. That's all you need to know."

"Oh, okay."

As he stepped out of his home, A.J. took a backward glance at Rick and felt a twinge of guilt for leaving him alone while he was in such a vulnerable state.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning. Good night, Rick."

"'Night," said Rick a couple seconds after A.J. closed the door behind him.

The pain medication Rick was on had started to kick in a while back and made him feel like he was floating. His own voice sounded as though it were coming from afar. He knew he was expecting something but couldn't quite recall what it was when his brother had gone out the door. As he detachedly wondered what exactly he was waiting for, A.J.'s scream, which was closely followed by his irate "RIIIICK," sliced through the serenity of narcotic nirvana. _Oh... THAT._ A faint smile tugged at the corners of Rick's lips, and pretty soon he was grinning ear to ear like the happiest man in the world staring into space.


	12. Chapter 12

**EPILOGUE**

Cecilia Simon returned from San Francisco Monday night. Rick called her Tuesday morning to give her a heads-up. Worried sick, she immediately left her home though Rick had assured her that everything was under control—considering. She arrived at A.J.'s home and opened the door. "Hello?"

"Back here, Mom," came the response from the patio at the back.

She found her two sons in shorts and tank tops lying on the chaise lounges, basking in the sun. They seemed to be doing fine and comfortable although Rick had stitches on the forehead that made him look like the Frankenstein monster and the lower half of his left leg was in a cast, and A.J.'s right arm was folded and pressed against his chest and immobilized in a sling.

"Looks like you two are doing quite well despite your broken limbs and all," was Cecilia's motherly assessment of the boys' condition with a dash of relief and a pinch of sarcasm.

"We get by," said Rick ruefully trying to win her sympathy. "But since you're up, could you get me a…"

"Rick!" A.J. interjected. "Don't listen to him, Mom. He was doing just fine until you got here."

Rick figured A.J. was still sore at him because his last practical joke was the indirect cause of his injuries.

"I imagine so," said Cecilia, then she asked Rick, "How did you manage to remove the tires of A.J.'s Camaro with one leg in a cast?"

"With some difficulty," replied Rick stating the obvious. He tried to look remorseful. "All I wanted was get him dirty after all that preening for a big date, but I was so doped up with the pain meds I forgot I'd put Marlowe in the car. And since it rained yesterday, the top was on, and he couldn't get out."

Shaking her head, Cecilia asked, "Why did you put him in your brother's car in the first place?"

"He was just following me around, getting in my way, like A.J. used to."

"By the time I walked into the garage, Marlowe was frantic, which is quite understandable because he'd been confined to a small space for so long. And when I let him loose, he jumped out like the hound of the Baskervilles, knocking me down by accident." A.J. explained.

A fall in the cluttered garage had resulted in a dislocated shoulder and a fractured clavicle, plus an assortment of minor lacerations and puncture wounds.

Cecilia gave Rick a stern look. "If I didn't know any better, I might suspect you'd hatched a twisted scheme like those characters in _Strangers on a Train_ to harm each other so you'd be able to weasel out of your social engagement for tomorrow," said Cecilia testily.

"What?" Rick couldn't believe his ears.

"_Strangers on a Train,_ you know, a Hitchcock classic based on a novel by Patricia Highsmith." A.J. had always been a font of trivia knowledge.

Rick threw a look of annoyance at his brother. "I know that!" Then he told his mother, "You don't mean that, do you, Mom? I'd never hurt A.J. or myself just to break a date with an old lady."

"No, of course not." Cecilia relented.

"I'd say it is a remote possibility." A.J. was still holding a grudge.

"You don't mean that either, dear." Cecilia gently admonished A.J.

She stood between her two sons gazing down at them alternately. "All right. Now that you're laid up and can't take Sandra and Gretchen to the fundraiser tomorrow night, I'd like you to do something for me."

"What?" Rick asked warily.

"I need your assurance that you won't kill each other while recuperating together. I want you to bury the hatchet for now, or at least until you completely recover from your injuries. Understood?"

Her sons didn't appear too keen on the idea.

"Rick, apologize to your brother." Cecilia ordered her oldest as she had done so many times in the past.

Rick sighed and was about to roll his eyes when Cecilia told him in no uncertain terms, "And no eye-rolling, young man!"

Rick hated it when his mother read him like an open book.

"I'm sorry, A.J.," muttered Rick, but Cecilia stopped him before he could go on.

"Rick, if you are going to apologize, do it like you mean it."

For a petit woman of a certain age, she sure knew how to crack the whip.

"I'm sorry." Rick started from the top, resigned, "You weren't supposed to get hurt, but I wasn't thinking clearly…"

"Story of your life." A.J. couldn't hold his cheeky tongue.

"A.J.! This is a peace negotiation, not a declaration of war. Now, you apologize to Rick."

"What?" A.J. was stung by his mother's demand.

"I hear you've been a willing participant in Rick's silly game. As they say, it takes two to tango. You should have known better than to let your brother talk you into this nonsense."

"But, Mom…" A.J. whined plaintively.

"Don't make me repeat myself, mister." Cecilia stared him down, her hands on her hips.

Rick bit his lower lip hard in order to keep the corners of his mouth from curling up. It was a rare occasion to see the fair-haired boy receive a tongue-lashing and a lesson in humility from _his_ dear ole mother.

A.J. took a few moments to collect himself.

"Rick, I'm sorry I implied that you might entertain a thought of physically hurting me." He barely managed to keep resentment out of his voice.

"Good!" Cecilia bent over and planted a kiss on the cheek of each son. "Now, it wasn't so hard, was it?"

Her boys were wise enough not to tell her what was on their minds.

"I'm not really looking forward to breaking the news of your accidents to Sandra and Gretchen though—they will be so heartbroken," said Cecilia sighing. "Maybe Roger has a couple of friends who may be available for tomorrow night…"

Rick and A.J. surmised this Roger in her soliloquy was her current squeeze. They were often amazed that their seemingly prim and proper mother had been leading a very full—and often colorful—social life at her age.

"Oh, and A.J., give me the list of groceries and other things you need."

"You don't have to do that, Mom." A.J. protested mildly.

Cecilia folded her arms over the chest. "You _are_ aware that you can't drive for several weeks, right?"

The expression on her sons' faces told her otherwise.

"A.J., your right arm is out of commission—you can't shift the gear. And, Rick, you can't use the clutch. Besides, you're on pain medications and shouldn't be driving anyway."

"I'm taking only prescription Tylenol. Opiate drugs make me violently sick." Ever a debater, A.J. made a moot point.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Cecilia impatiently with a huff. "Never mind the list. I'll just drive over to the market and get whatever grabs my fancy. After I come back here, I'm going to cook something for tonight and tomorrow, all right?"

Rick and A.J. nodded feeling like a couple of kids receiving the rundown from their mother before the babysitter's arrival.

"I'll be right back, boys. And please, behave yourselves and be nice to each other while I'm away!"

She was already on her way to her car.

"Bye, Mom," said Rick craning his neck to see her go.

"Thanks for doing this for us, Mom," said A.J. politely.

They heaved a collective sigh of relief watching their mother's receding figure.

"Man, I thought she'd never leave!" Rick let off some steam.

"Tell me about it," said A.J. in wholehearted agreement. "It's so humiliating to be treated like your nemesis, Marcus, at Terrible Twos."

"Can't agree more."

"I was speaking for myself. You should be used to it by now after all these years."

"Hey, watch it, buster. I also have years of practice in beating you up. Wait till I lay my hands on you—you're gonna end up with two arms in slings." Rick's threat didn't pack a lot of punch mainly because he was still reclining comfortably on the chaise lounge.

"Ha! Fat chance. With your bum leg, you can't beat Mrs. Hartmann in a ten-meter hobble. But whenever you feel like eating my dust, just let me know." A.J. murmured his retort soaking up the sun, but it lacked some zip.

"Go on, gloat over my misfortune, but you can't keep on running indefinitely. I'm gonna getcha when you're least expecting it. And when I do, you're dead meat. You're no match for me with two good arms let alone with one." The sun was too bright for Rick to keep his eyes open. His body glistened as a sheen of perspiration caught the rays of the sun.

Sipping a glass of iced tea, A.J. sighed contently and closed his eyes. His nose was turning pink. "True, but then Mom will be on your case from here to eternity for breaking your promise."

That gave Rick something to think about.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He agreed with his brother. "Consider yourself lucky."

"Truce then?"

It took Rick only a second or two to respond. "Yeah, truce. For now." He nodded. "I sure don't need Mom nagging my ear off when I already have a broken bone."

"Neither do I," said A.J. laughing.

The brothers continued to work on their tan for a while before Rick spoke again.

"A.J.?"

"Hmm?"

"I want you to know that I didn't know you were bringing Rebecca over the other day when I played a practical joke on ya. If I'd known, I never woulda done that. Honest."

A.J. gave his brother a reflective look as if to gauge his sincerity.

"Would you believe me?" asked Rick with his hangdog eyes.

After a while, A.J. nodded. "Yeah, I believe you. Your pranks drive me crazy, but you've been the best big brother one could ask for since we were little."

Rick saw a tentative smile touch his brother's face and grinned inwardly. _Man, how old ARE you, A.J.? You've been taking this bull all your life, and you still haven't learned a thing, have you? A man your age shouldn't be this guileless. Sometimes, I'm real scared for ya,_ thought he as he returned a smile.

A.J.'s smile grew a little wider when he was certain Rick had bought his act. _I can hardly wait till I see the look on your face when you open the door of your Power Wagon, big brother._

Happy thoughts danced in the heads of the Simon brothers as they exchanged a look of brotherly love in the warm California sun.


End file.
